Clutching Shadows
by Garion Faldor
Summary: The new Lord of his family's venerable estate must restore the honor of his line and destroy the horrifying abominations set loose by the mad folly of his ancestor. Gathering together a group of unlikely heroes and mercenaries they must delve deep into the dark abyss and battle creatures out of nightmare. But the darkest dungeon of all is not one made of stone or iron bars...
1. Prologue

Prologue: An Ancestor's Call

 _May 23rd, 1898_

 _London, England_

 _Jerguson and Gentry Solicitors_

The lithe young man sat at his desk writing upon a sheet of paper with a well-trimmed quill. Pausing he dipped the nub into the inkwell beside him before returning to the page, swiftly scratching out the last of the notes he was making for a deposition before the Justice in the morning, careful not to stain the cuffs of his white shirt. Setting the paper aside and allowing the ink to dry the pale and clean-shaven man sat back in his chair and stretched, his shoulder-length brown hair swaying slightly behind him as he felt his back pop. A moment later there came a knock at his door.

"Come in." The man called as he sat forward, smoothing his hair and focusing on the door.

The polished oak door opened revealing the somewhat corpulent figure of one of the senior solicitors for the firm. The round-faced older man was dressed in a stylish shirt and waistcoat with dark slacks, a gold pocket watch tucked into the pocket of his vest with the chain just hanging out. A pair of slim bifocals sat upon his nose bringing his watery blue eyes into sharp focus and his hair was grey as was the trim beard covering his jowls.

"Heading home for the day Charles?" He asked.

Charles nodded. "I will be in a few moments Mr. Crawley. Just finishing up some paperwork."

The man nodded. "Be sure and get some sleep, I want you fresh and bright-eyed when we're up before Lord Henry tomorrow in chambers, you know how the man gets if someone isn't giving them his full attention."

"Absolutely sir." Charles said with a nod.

"Good man." Crawley nodded in approval. "Good night to you then."

"Good night sir." Charles nodded in respect as the man departed, shutting the door behind him.

Glancing at the now dry page Charles added it to his sheaf of papers before smiling slightly. While the man was a bit stuffy and fastidious in his ways Mr. Crawley was certainly not a mean man. Charles owed him much for taking him under his wing and giving him a chance when the firm had allowed him to work for them as one of their junior solicitors. Being fresh out of law school Charles had not expected to find work in such a well known firm but Crawley had vouched for him, seeing potential in the 32 year old. The older man had shown him the ropes and guarded him against the sometimes cutthroat world of office politics as well as coaching him on the various Justices he would be coming in contact with in his role as a trial lawyer. Charles's sharp analytical mind and attention to detail had quickly ensured his usefulness to the firm and he was now considered one of their better solicitors, for relatively simple cases at least. He knew he had a ways to go yet before they would allow him to work on far more serious and prestigious cases but with Crawley's patronage he was certain it would come in due time.

Closing his case filled with documents Charles stood and glanced about the small room. It might not have been much but it was certainly better than what might have been had he not gotten the position and the sign on his door, outlined in brass, did look rather fetching if he did say so.

Charles Dexter Ezekiel, Solicitor.

Smiling at his good fortune the man turned off the gas lamps in the room, allowing the light to fade before he left the room, shutting and locking it behind him. Leaving the office he stepped out into the fading London twilight, the lamp lighters moving about unobtrusively as they lit the lamp posts throughout the city. Calling a carriage Charles returned quickly to his flat a few miles away in one of the residential districts. Paying the cabbie he walked up the stairs, taking a moment to retrieve his mail from the box next to the door. Stepping inside he divested himself of his overcoat before loosening his necktie and rolling up his sleeves before settling in his favorite chair in the sitting room. As he began examining the post one of letters caught his eye, a thick envelope on rich paper held shut with a wax seal. Setting the others aside on the small table next to him he examined the name on the front.

Lord Augustus Ezekiel.

 _Grandfather Augustus?_ Charles thought to himself in surprise. _Why in the world is he writing to me?_

Frowning he took hold of the envelope and snapped the seal, recalling what he knew of the man, having neither seen nor spoken to him in decades. From his childhood memories came the picture an older, aristocratic man with a pointed beard, weathered brow, and piercing grey eyes. Charles remembered he had always worn a great red overcoat trimmed with gold thread over his ruffled shirt and pants, making him look almost like a fanciful General in uniform. The man had seemed a rather distant and aloof figure, his deep and powerful voice always reverberating off the walls as he spoke with great gravitas and solemnity, regardless of the occasion. While his parents and he had often visited the man in earlier years they had seemed to grow distant towards him as time went on. He recalled the many hours he and his cousins had enjoyed playing in the large and stately manor the man had lived in but in time his parents had stopped their visits.

 _It was about that time that Father had us move to London._ He recalled with a bit of confusion as he remembered his Father had never explained to him why they had moved so far away from Augustus and the rest of the family even though he had asked on several occasions over the years. The only thing he knew for sure was that his parents and him had fallen on harder times shortly after that as the family fortune remained tied to Augustus and the man had stopped sending them any kind of assistance shortly thereafter. Fortunately, his father had been a conservative man even with his earlier wealth at his disposal and thankfully had saved enough to keep them afloat and send Charles to law school while he worked but money had definitely been tighter.

Shaking off his thoughts he shook out the paper, noticing it was actually two separate letters within the envelope, one loose and the other sealed with more wax, a note on the front saying simply "to be opened before your departure".

 _I wonder what dear old Augustus wants…_ He thought idly as he opened the loose letter and read the first line.

 _Ruin has come to our family._

Charles froze upon reading the stark statement.

 _No greeting, no nothing...just...that._ _What could have happened that was so terrible…?_ He wondered in bewildered dismay before continuing to read.

 _Ruin has come to our family._

 _You remember our venerable house, opulent and imperial, gazing proudly from its stoic perch above the moor. I lived all my years in that ancient, rumor-shadowed manor, fattened by decadence and luxury. And yet I began to tire of...conventional extravagance. Singular unsettling tales suggested the mansion itself was a gateway to some fabulous and unnameable power. With relic and ritual, I bent every effort towards the excavation and recovery of those long buried secrets, exhausting what remained of our family fortune on...swarthy workmen and...sturdy shovels._

Pausing for a moment he stared at the letter uncomprehendingly before his mind began to work again. _Well that would certainly explain why Father and Mother never returned there with me if this kind of...madness was starting to manifest, but I never thought...!_ His train of thought trailed off in confusion before he refocused his attention on the letter.

 _At last, in the salt soaked crags beneath the lowest foundations, we unearthed that damnable portal of antediluvian evil. Our every step unsettled the ancient earth! But we were in a realm of death and madness! In the end, I alone fled, laughing and wailing through those blackened arcades of antiquity._

 _Until consciousness failed me._

Charles's hands shook as he read, his eyes wide.

 _You remember our venerable house, opulent and imperial...it has become a festering abomination! I beg you! Return home! Claim your birthright! And deliver our family from the ravenous clutching shadows of the Darkest Dungeon!_

Charles swallowed heavily as he tried to take in what he had just read, his unseeing eyes blinking in the soft light of the lamp.

 _This...this can't be!_ He thought fearfully. _I always know Grandfather was a bit eccentric but he would never have…_

It was then he noticed the rust-colored spatter on the outside of the envelope.

Scarcely daring to breathe he slowly brought the envelope closer, examining the dark spots before bringing it to his nose and sniffing carefully.

Amidst the slight perfumed scent of the parchment was the tell-tale scent of old blood.

Swallowing heavily the envelope dropped from his nerveless fingers, falling into his lap. He stared at the letter, rereading it over and over again until he finally sat back, trying to comprehend what he had read while his Grandfather's dying wishes reverberated over and over in his head as he shivered, his body chilled to the bone.

 _Return home...claim your birthright...deliver your family..._

" _Grandfather…what have you done?"_ He said in a horrified whisper, his eyes staring into the darkness of his room beyond the seemingly feeble light of the lamp.

The darkness stared back at him silently.

* * *

A/N: The game's Gothic nature and the humanity of the characters inspired me to begin writing this. I plan to base the story off of the characters I use in-game though I cannot guarantee that as the plot and consistency of the story and its characters are most important to me. The character's name of Charles Dexter Ezekiel is a homage to Charles Dexter Ward of H.P Lovecraft fame and 's 'Ezekiel III', whose play-through of Darkest Dungeon got me interested in the first place. Please review as positive interest will help fuel more chapters!


	2. Preparations

Chapter 1: Preparations

 _You will arrive along the old road._

 _It winds with a troubling, serpent-like suggestion through the corrupted countryside. Leading only, I fear, to ever more tenebrous places. There is a sickness in the ancient, pitted cobbles of the old road and on its writhing path you will face viciousness, violence, and perhaps, other damnably transcendent terrors._

 _So steel yourself and remember there can be no bravery without madness. The old road will take you to hell. But, in that gaping abyss, we will find our redemption._

Charles lowered the note, a weary look in his eyes. He had hardly been able to sleep and the few snatches of rest he did manage were plagued with dark indefinable nightmares that left him sweating upon waking. Finally, as dawn was breaking over the city, he had decided to read the second note. Thankfully, while the message held the possibility of a hard journey to the moors where the manor stood, the writing was much more reminiscent of his Grandfather's normal prose when writing or even speaking.

 _Grandfather always did have a flair for the dramatic._ He recalled idly as he slowly dressed and put his hair in a semblance of order. _Obviously I'm going to need protection not only for the journey but while I'm there if what the first letter said was true._

As he made himself a simple breakfast he pondered his next moves with careful deliberation. Obviously he would have to inform the firm that he would be away for quite some time due to a family emergency and inform his friends as well. Then there was also the matter of hiring not only a coach to take him north but whom to hire for the trip.

Polishing off his toast and eggs he retrieved his folio of documents and quickly left the flat. Catching a carriage he soon found himself at the steps of his employer.

 _I hope I'll still have a job after all this._ He thought morosely as he climbed the steps.

Walking through the front door he made his way to Crawley's office where his secretary sat, writing.

"Good morning Mary." He said quietly. "Is he in yet?"

The blonde woman looked up at him and blinked in surprise. "My goodness! Charles you look like you've seen a ghost!"

Charles smiled wanly at this. "Not surprising. I received a rather...distressing letter last night. I'm afraid my Grandfather just recently passed away. I'm needed up north to...get his affairs in order."

The woman's hand flew to her mouth in dismay. "Oh Charles! That's terrible, I'm so sorry! I-I'm afraid Mr. Crawley isn't in yet but I'll be sure to tell him the minute he comes in the door!" She assured him, her eyes filled with concern.

Nodding Charles handed over the folio. "These are all the documents we needed for this morning's court session. Needless to say I won't be able to make it. Perhaps John can help out. He's familiar with some of the details too as he helped me with bits of it. I don't know how long it will take me but I'll try to be back as quickly as I can. Don't want them to fill my seat while I'm away." He suggested with a sad smile.

Mary nodded accepting the folio from his outstretched hand. "I'll make sure to get these to him. Good luck Charles. You'll be in my prayers." She assured him.

"Thank you Mary." Charles replied with a nod before leaving the office.

The remainder of the morning seemed to blur together as Charles attempted to make discreet inquiries about hiring men for a long journey. Eventually he found himself outside of what appeared to be a chapel house for a religious order. Looking up at the sign above the door he frowned slightly in confusion.

"The Order of St. George. Curious, that. Never heard of them." He muttered as he knocked politely.

A few moments later the door opened revealing an older man with a slight stoop and grey hair. "How may I help you young sir?" The door warden asked.

"I'd like to speak with the Chapter Master about hiring a few of your men if it's possible." He requested.

The man nodded. "Come in sir and I'll see if he can spare you a few minutes."

The man moved to the side allowing Charles to enter. The man shut the door behind him and locked it before gesturing to one of the padded chairs sitting about the small entryway.

"Please make yourself comfortable sir whilst I speak with the Chapter Master." He offered before stepping out of the room.

Nodding, Charles seated himself in the chair, glancing about. The room was fairly spartan with a crucifix hanging on one wall and a vase of flowers upon a small table on the opposite wall. Not far away he could hear the muffled conversations of the knights and other members of the Order as they went about their business. A short time later the old man returned.

"The Chapter Master will see you sir." The man said.

"Thank you." Charles said as he stood.

The warden led him down the corridor to a door which he opened for Charles before standing aside, allowing him to enter before shutting the door behind him. While the room was a bit more richly decorated with carpet, a window, and a bookshelf filled with books along one wall the remainder of the room was still fairly frugal in nature. Behind the plain desk sat a middle-aged man still in his prime with broad shoulders, a fringed beard, and a mop of brown hair. His dark eyes sized up Charles in a moment before speaking.

"How can the Order of St. George help you this morning sir?" He asked in his baritone voice.

"I wished to speak with you about hiring some of your men." Charles replied, noting with slight irritation that there was no chair for him to sit in, forcing him to stand.

The man cocked his head to the side slightly, his eyes narrowing. "You presume much, sir, to think us little more than hired mercenaries or servants." He replied, his tone becoming gruff.

"Enlighten me then." Charles replied, unruffled by the man's tone. "What, exactly, does your Order do?"

"You come to us asking for services without even knowing our purpose?" The Chapter Master asked with a piercing look. "Are you a fool or do you take me for one?"

Charles spread his hands. "Please, I meant no disrespect. It was recommended that I come here for help but before today I did not know your organization existed."

The man hummed a bit. "Well I suppose we do rather keep to ourselves." He admitted with a bit of a huff. "Tell me of your need then. Why do you wish to hire my Vestals and Knights?"

Charles retrieved the two letters from his pocket and handed them wordlessly to the man. Blinking, the Chapter Master took them from him and began to read the letters. Several times his eyebrows raised in surprise as he read them before setting them on his desk and leaning back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face. A few moments later he refocused on Charles.

"Do you have any reason to believe these claims are false?" He asked with a bit of challenge in his voice.

Charles shook his head. "My Grandfather was not the type to jest. Never have I received a note from him such as this. I fear something terrible has happened."

"Yes, the letters make that plain." The man sighed. "Have you considered the possibility that this may be a lure? That some enemy of yours or your family's is attempting to ensnare or trap you?"

Charles shrugged. "I have no enemies as far as I know, though I suppose it's possible Grandfather could have made a few if what he has done is true. But that is all the more reason..."

"That you would need our aid, yes." The Chapter Master said, finishing the thought. "I suppose then that it is best that you were sent to us."

"How so?" Charles asked.

"The Knightly Order of St. George is one of the more militant orders of the Church." The man explained, steepling his hands in front of him. "We are, after all, named after the legendary knight who slew a dragon. Our sacred duty is the destruction of evil and to prevent its spread throughout the world. We have chapters in other countries as well. Normally our duties amount to little more than exposing frauds and hawkers who prey on people with less than legitimate practices, though we do occasionally find true dens of wickedness to prosecute. Sadly in recent years we have been forced to take on assignments for coin but even still we choose them carefully. We are not merely swords for hire. However, assuming this letter is true, this could very well be a crusade in the truest sense of the word, the very thing for which our Order was formed to fight."

"So you will help me then?" Charles asked intently.

The man nodded. "I will have one of our Crusaders travel with you to provide security and assess the situation when he arrives. If he confirms the contents of the letter I will dispatch one of our Vestals to help with the assignment."

Charles nodded. "I appreciate your help in this matter sir. Not that I doubt the stoutness of your men of course but I would prefer to have more than one man at my side should we run into bandits or highwaymen along the way."

The man quirked an eyebrow at this as he smiled faintly. "I take no offense sir. Funny you should mention highwaymen for I think I may have a solution to your request."

"And that would be?" Charles asked curiously.

"In this line of work, sir, you come to know the underside of this city rather well. Something that is slightly less known than our public work is the fact that we keep our ear to the ground and occasionally employ men whom...well let us say that they are trying to do the Light's work in order to redeem themselves from misdeeds done in the past. I take it you will keep that bit of information to yourself?" He insisted with a sharp look.

Charles nodded. "I shall be the very soul of discretion sir. As you were saying?"

The Chapter Master nodded. "As I was saying I know of a highwayman who frequents a nearby establishment. He is not the most pleasant of fellows but his heart is in the right place and he has been looking for work. If you go to the Galloping Stallion a block down the street, speak with the barkeep. His name is Tobias and he should be able to point you to Cassius Dismas, the man I spoke of."

Charles nodded. "I thank you for your help sir. I pray that nothing comes of this matter but I fear otherwise."

The Chapter Master nodded as he rose. "Planning for the worse while hoping for the best is a good model to live by. There is one other matter that I need to inform you of before I can release one of my men to you. We do, out of necessity, charge a fee for our services. These men are trained, their swords and armor provided by the Church, but we still must lodge and feed them. 20 shillings a week should cover the cost of him."

Charles grimaced slightly but nodded. He had his own savings of course as the firm paid a decent wage but hopefully he would be able to find some coinage in the old manor to help supplement the cost. He had no wish to make himself penniless just trying to correct his Grandfather's mistakes.

"Good." The man replied as he crossed the room. "Come, I will introduce you to the Crusader who will travel with you."

Charles nodded and followed the man out of the room. They walked down the hallway to an outdoor area where several men were sparring with swords.

"Winters!" The Chapter Master shouted over the din.

One of the figures in full plate mail stepped back from the practice field and began walking towards them, sheathing his sword and removing his helmet as he went. The man was tall with a lean face and shoulder length jet black hair with cloudy blue eyes and a firm mouth.

"This is Reynauld Winters." The Chapter Master said to Charles before turning to Reynauld. "Winters, this man has need of your services. You should be thankful, this could very well turn out to be a true and just cause should things pan out as we expect."

"Thank you for this honor Chapter Master, I shall do the Order proud." The man replied, almost as if by rote.

 _I suppose he's said the same thing hundreds of times no matter where he's told to go._ Charles thought a bit morosely. "Charles Ezekiel." He said, extending his hand.

"Reynauld Winters." The man replied plainly, carefully removing his gauntlet before shaking Charles's hand. "Might I ask what this matter pertains to sir?"

"Charles has some other matters to attend to." The Chapter Master stated. "I will discuss it with you in private shortly. Where should Winters meet you sir, and when?" He asked Charles.

"1145 Newbury Road." Charles replied. "I have yet to acquire a carriage for the trip, I hope to have one ready by tomorrow morning as I wish to depart as soon as I have packed and made arrangements."

The Chapter Master nodded. "I will have Winters arrive on your doorstep tomorrow morning just after dawn then. Unless you have any questions or concerns I believe that concludes our business."

Charles nodded. "A good day to both of you."

Leaving the two men and the practice yard behind he made his way back to the main entrance and walked out into the bustling street. Looking about he made his way down the street to the pub the Chapter Master had mentioned. Walking inside he sat down at the bar. A moment later the slightly rotund barkeep with beefy arms and thick mustache stood in front of him.

"What'll ya have?" He asked in a bored tone.

"I'm actually looking for someone." Charles replied. "A Mr. Dismas?"

"Dunno anybody by that name." The man replied immediately. "Must have the wrong place."

Charles smiled slightly at this. "The Chapter Master asked me to speak with him. I'm not here to get him in trouble. On the contrary, I'd like to offer him a job."

"Why does a fancy bloke like you need 'em?" The barkeep asked, apparently dispensing with the thin subterfuge.

"I'd say that's my business, isn't it?" Charles replied in a slightly clipped tone. "I'm sure the man can take care of himself if I'm not who I say I am, being a highwayman and all."

The barkeep frowned slightly at Charles's defiant tone but nodded. "'e normally comes by in an hour or two. Keeps to the back corner. Come back then. And I'll be tellin' 'em you're lookin' for him so don't get any ideas about bringin' 'elp."

"I'm not exactly bobbie material am I?" Charles asked in amusement, glancing down at his outfit. "Rest assured I have no intention of bringing the police with me. Thank you." He said, standing up and leaving a few pence on the bar before walking out. Charles spent the time catching a carriage to a rental establishment where he ordered a trip coach for the long journey, large enough to comfortably hold a few people and their luggage. Securing the carriage's services for the next morning he then stopped at the local post to write out some short letters to his various acquaintances, letting them know he would be out of the city for the foreseeable future. Returning to the pub a few hours later he found the barkeep Tobias wiping down a mug. Noticing Charles the man walked over to him.

"'e's in the corner over there." He said, gesturing discreetly with a finger. "Watch y'self," Tobias cautioned, "'e ain't lost none o' his skills with a pistol."

"Good." Charles replied calmly. "I'm counting on that."

Turning his back on the barkeep he walked over to the corner table. The man was dressed in a dark overcoat with a furred grey fringe around the collar, partially covering a red scarf and plain shirt underneath. He work dark workman's pants and boots and his hands were covered with a pair of reddish gloves. The man's face was young but showing lines of a hard life with ridges and slowly thinning black hair.

"Cassius Dismas?" Charles asked politely as he arrived at the table.

"Maybe." The man stated, gazing at him shrewdly with dark eyes. "Depends on who's askin'."

"I believe our good barkeep informed you that I was looking for you at the request of the Chapter Master of St. George." Charles pointed out quietly.

"He might have said sumthin' like that." Dismas hedged, eyeing Charles distrustfully. "But we don't have no business so far as I know."

"Ah but that's what I'd like to talk to you about." Charles said with a smile as he dropped a copper coin on the table. "If you're interested of course. If you have plenty of work flowing in then I won't bother you further."

The man's hand swept across the table quickly, the coin vanishing. "Every little bit helps." He admitted grudgingly. "Sit."

"Thank you." Charles said, seating himself on the wooden stool opposite the man.

"So what business is this that you're wantin' to hire me?" Dismas asked carefully. "You need someone dead or robbed? I don't do that sort o' thing no more."

"So the Chapter Master tells me." Charles replied. "That's one reason why he recommended you. I'm travelling north and I need someone to help guard me on the trip and possibly while I'm there."

Dismas nodded. "Guard duty I can do. You expectin' trouble?"

Charles shrugged. "Hopefully not but I can't say. Better to be safe."

"True enough." Dismas admitted. "So I be guardin' you and your bags. Anybody else?"

"I did hire a Crusader from the Order as well and he'll be travelling with us." Charles replied. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"So long as he don't preach the whole way or start slanderin' me with his tongue, won't be no problem." The man replied with a snort of derision.

Charles nodded. "Good. We're in agreement then."

"Not quite yet Mister." Dismas replied. "You still ain't told me what you're payin' me for this. I don' work for free you know."

"Quite true, my apologies. Does 10 shillings a day sound like a fair deal?"

Dismas blinked before mastering his face. "So long as you pay me right, sounds more than fair. Keep a roof over me head for a while at least once I get back."

Charles nodded. "I may need to keep you on longer as there may be some...unpleasant elements that need to be taken care of. Rest assured if they are what I think they are you will have no trouble dispatching them."

"I'll be makin' that decision, won't I?" Dismas retorted. "If I see anythin' funny about this whole thing you give me my pay and I walk! Got it?"

"So long as you don't leave me to the mercy of bandits or possible former associates on the way there that's fine." Charles replied.

Dismas nodded. "We have a deal then." He said, offering his hand which Charles shook.

"My address." Charles said, offering him a piece of paper. "Be there tomorrow morning by dawn, I want to get an early start."

Dismas nodded, tucking the paper away in a pocket.

"One more thing, I realize you may not have the means but if you can make yourself a bit more...presentable before you arrive. I would not have my neighbors thinking you kidnapped me."

"With a Crusader at your side and you're worried abou' that?" Dismas asked incredulously, barking a laugh. "I'll try and gussy meself up for your Honor but I ain't makin' promises. Like you said, money's been tight."

"Understandable." Charles said with a nod as he stood. "Until tomorrow then."

"'Morrow." Dismas nodded as Charles departed, the highwayman carefully sliding his flintlock pistol back into his pocket from where he'd hidden it under the table out of sight.


	3. The Old Road

Chapter 2: The Old Road

"Old man must'a gone round the twist somethin' fierce to pull some crazy crap like this." Dismas muttered quietly as he put down the two letters, having just read them. "You sure this ain't some joke?"

Charles shook his head. "The Chapter Master suggested the same but as I told him, my Grandfather was not one for jokes or pranks in the slightest. I have every reason to believe what he wrote is true, if perhaps a bit flamboyant."

"What the soddin' hell have I got meself into?" Dismas asked himself quietly with a shake of his head. "If I'd known it was gonna be this kinda joyride I might'a skipped it."

"Come now." Reynauld said with a sardonic smile, sitting beside Charles. "Where is your spirit of adventure? The smiting of hateful foes and returning home in glory?"

Dismas snorted. "This ain't no fairytale book and even if it were, in those stories ya get sent home in a long wood box more oft' than not. I just wanna collect my pay at the end o' this and come home with all me limbs intact."

"Well I suppose that is a reasonable aim in itself." Reynauld admitted with a smile.

The small group had been on the road for the last day and a half. Both men had shown up on time as had the carriage along with its driver. Dismas had at least made the attempt to make himself presentable by wearing clean clothes and enunciating properly though his still wore his overcoat and gloves. The Crusader had come dressed in his armor with a long purple cloth covering the front of it, the symbol of the Light stitched into the fabric. The carriage had been quickly packed and the house locked up before they set off through the city. The trip through London had been uneventful with both men occasionally pointing out places of interest they had been to over the years. The first day's travel was entirely uneventful as they traveled well known roads and often passed by other carriages on other errands. Stopping at a small town for the night they had spent the time peacefully, taking in the rustic and clean air of the country before retiring. The next day was much the same as they traveled through leagues of open farmland dotted by animals and the occasional town where they re-provisioned themselves. During the trip Charles got to know the two of them a little better. Thankfully Reynauld was not as uptight as Charles feared he might be. The man was fairly down to earth and not obsessed with holiness in others though he did consider himself a God-fearing warrior of the light. Dismas had an even more pragmatic view of the world as he was mainly interested in his own self-interest but as the Chapter Master had said, the man was trying to turn his life around by taking only jobs that were morally upright. As the sun was beginning to set the older driver whom the rental firm had commissioned to drive them called back to them.

"We're nearing the hamlet good sirs! Just a mile or two now! Can see it in the distance!"

Acknowledging the man from the window Charles sat back with a smile. "Well gentlemen, I'm pleased to see that things have gone exceptionally smoothly so far. Perhaps we needn't worry after all?"

Dismas shrugged. "Fine by me. Free coin for a easy ride up and down the countryside ain't the wors' job in the world."

"The note did say that conditions on the hamlet road were perhaps more troublesome." Reynauld said pensively. "I would not let down our guard just yet."

Dismas nodded, glancing out the window with a sharp eye. The road, which before had been relatively smooth became much rougher as the cobblestones had become uneven and overgrown.

"F-f-feel l-like m-me teeth are g-g-gonna f-f-all out of m-me head!" The highwayman exclaimed with a grimace. "B-b-bloody r-road!"

"It is -oof!- rather disagreeable." Reynauld said as a particularly hard knock caused him to smack his head against the ceiling of the carriage.

The sun continued to slowly creep towards the horizon as they endured the rough road, filling the cabin with dusky light. Suddenly a loud gunshot was heard and the horses began to gallop while neighing loudly, causing the carriage to jolt about.

"Bloody 'ell!" Dismas swore as he quickly retrieved his knife and flintlock from his pockets. "Should'a known it was too easy!"

"Time to earn our pay." Reynauld replied grimly as he quickly attached his helmet to his breastplate and back armor before readying his sword. Suddenly the driver cried out with a loud wail as a second musket shot was heard from the trees. The group looked out the carriage window in time to see the man's body fall to the ground, the carriage wheels missing him by inches. Wild now and out of control the horses began to stampede frantically, making the carriage bounce back and forth, ironically making it a harder target for the brigands to hit. More buckshot and musket balls pelted the carriage walls making the men duck down with Reynauld covering Charles with his armored body as one of the windows shattered, spraying glass across the cabin.

"Bloody brigands!" Dismas shouted angrily as he covered his eyes with his arm to ward away some of the glass. He quickly covered his lower face with his scarf before aiming out the window and firing.

"Are you mad?" Reynauld asked angrily. "You'll never get a good shot off like that!"

"They don't know that do they?" Dismas replied firmly as he reloaded his weapon with gun powder using a small hand pump he had retrieved from an inner pocket. "And now they know we're armed. Might scare 'em off!"

"I highly doubt it." Reynauld remarked caustically as he peered out the window only to jerk his head back with an angry hiss as a musket ball zipped through the broken window and embedded itself in the ceiling.

Several moments later one of the carriage wheels slammed into a small sink hole in the road, wrenching it out of alignment and making the entire coach shake violently as it swerved back and forth.

"Hold on!" Shouted Dismas.

"Trying to!" Reynauld retorted as he stuck his head out the window again. Underneath his helmet his eyes widened as he saw the horses stampeding towards a thick row of trees just off the road.

"Out! Now!" He shouted, grabbing Charles and smashing the door open with his mailed boot. Leaping out of the carriage he wrapped his arms around Charles, landing on his back and allowing his armor to cushion the impact for the two of them. They skidded across the stones with a screech of metal with Charles lying on top of him. An instant later Dismas leaped from the coach, tumbling across the stones with his hands over his head. Seconds later the horses broke free from their harnesses and ran into the woods leaving the carriage to smash against the trees, toppling it over and dumping the luggage the group had brought with them.

Dismas quickly stood and dusted himself off as Reynauld helped Charles to his feet.

"Are you injured sir?" Reynauld asked him in concern.

Charles checked himself over quickly and shook his head. "Everything seems to be in working order. I suppose we shall have to walk from here."

"Shall we take the road?" Reynauld asked, glancing up the cobbled road.

Looking around Charles shook his head. "Brigands have run up these lanes. Better to keep to the side paths. The hamlet is just ahead."

"Where are they?" Reynauld asked in concern, looking about.

"That last race with the horses might have done us a favor." Charles remarked. "We seem to have outpaced them for the moment."

"More like lyin' in wait If I'm any judge." Dismas disagreed, keeping his weapons ready as his eyes scanned the tree lines. "We'd best move. Leave the luggage, only slow us down. This way!"

The trio quickly ran down one of the smaller trails leading through the woods. Looking about they saw that the woods themselves had become horribly overgrown with strange plants and oddly colored fungi covering several fallen trees. Here and there they could see various grave markers at bent angles, some ready to fall over entirely. Several minutes later as they neared a collection of tall grave stones capped with a bent and cloaked stone figure covering its face in sorrow a man appeared in their path wearing a deep green hood and leather armor, a pair of short swords gripped in his hands.

"Once I'm done wit' you lot I'll pick through all them lovely bags you got back there." He jeered. "I'm sure I can find somethin' nice for meself. Lucky me that I found you lot first."

Charles grit his teeth at the man's presumptuousness as a cold feeling of hate washed over him. "Lucky? I think not. Dismas? Reynauld? Dispatch this thug in brutal fashion so that all will hear of our arrival." He ordered.

"Wit' pleasure Guv'ner." Dismas replied with a smirk as Reynauld readied his sword.

Wasting no time Reynauld ran forward, slashing at the bandit with his sword. The man jumped back before darting forward, trying to slash at the pair. Dismas twisted out of the way while the other sword clanged against Reynauld's armor, making him stumble. Recovering, the Crusader quickly slashed with his sword. The man attempted to clumsily parry the unexpectedly furious attack only to get slashed deeply in the shoulder. Reynauld's mailed boot smashed into his side, knocking him back. A moment later Dismas's pistol barked, the shot hitting the man in the eye, killing him. Dismas walked over as the man fell and quickly slit his throat before rifling through the man's pockets.

"What are you doing?" Reynauld asked in a scandalized tone.

"Collectin' me pay." Dismas replied flatly, fishing some coins out of the man's pocket. "I ain't workin' for free am I? Besides, he don't need it no more and neither do 'is friends."

Reynauld turned away with a huff as they continued down the path. A few minutes later they came across a small lean-to tent the bandit had been using for cover. Dismas found more coin within the sleeping roll before they moved on. The group quickly moved through the underbrush, the small hamlet getting closer in the distance. As they reached a small clearing two men stepped from the trees. One was a massive brute of a man easily taller than all of them. His broad chest was covered in scars and chiseled muscle and he bore a lash in his hand. At his hip was a flintlock. His pants and hood were deep green and a massive belt encircled his waist. The man next to him was average sized with a similar hood and clothes though this one held a musket in his hands.

The trio stopped as they appraised each other before Dismas spoke up. "I know you daft dolts won't listen but I'll be sayin' it anyway. Don't be doin' nothin' stupid. We just butchered ya friend back there with nary a scratch on us. You sods think you can take on a bloke in armor and me at the same time?" He asked challengingly, a hard glint in his eye as he raised his pistol.

The larger man chuckled deeply. "I'll be usin' that sword to pick me teeth shortly." He replied.

The musketeer immediately raised his weapon and fired. Charles hit the ground, the buckshot whizzing over his head, the rest of it pelting Reynauld's armor and leaving black marks. Dismas's pistol roared, hitting both men with grapeshot and making them stagger back. A second later Reynauld slashed at the larger man opening a gash on his left arm. The brute staggered back with a yell of pain before whipping his arm forward, lashing at Reynauld. The metal balls attached to the ends of the cords slammed against his helmet, staggering him back. Taking advantage of the distraction Dismas leaped forward, his dirk in his hand. The knife flashed in the fading light slicing the man's hand and making him drop the lash. As the brute turned to attack Dismas Reynauld stabbed at the musketeer who had prepared another shot. The man's frantic shot went wild as the Crusader's sword buried itself in the man's gut. Yanking his sword out the knight punched the man in the face with his gauntlet, knocking him to the ground as blood began to pour from his perforated bowels. Behind him the brute yelled in anger as Dismas scored another shallow cut. The man's fist whipped across his body, catching Dismas in the head and knocking him back. Yanking his flintlock from his hip the brigand fired a quick shot at the former highwayman from point blank range, catching him in the side. Reynauld yelled in fury as he slashed at the brigand's neck, the blade embedding itself in the brute's spine with a _crack_. Blood began to flow from the behemoth's mouth as he slowly fell to his knees before falling to the ground face first with a _thud_. Ensuring the man was dead Reynauld quickly moved to check Dismas.

"Are you alright?" He asked urgently.

"Been better." The man grunted, pressing his hand to his side. "Bloody ball's still in there, don't feel too deep though. Coat helped some and that cannon weren't exactly new. Should be able to -errk!- yank it out I 'spect." He said, hissing in pain.

Charles quickly came up to him and they helped the struggling man to his feet. As the left the clearing they noticed a chest sitting innocently against a tree.

"I don't suppose we should…?" Charles asked hesitantly.

"No time." Dismas grunted. "'sides, knowin' that lot, they prob'ly trapped it. Nasty business."

The group continued to stagger their way through the overgrown woods until they finally came to the edge of the forest next to a sluggishly-flowing river. An old stone bridge allowed access across and beyond sat a dilapidated collection of buildings that were in various stages of falling apart. The three of them stared silently for a moment with Charles's eyes wide in disbelief.

 _This is the village I left behind as a child?_ He thought incredulously. _It can't be! How could they let this happen? Still, if what Grandfather said was true…_

As the group slowly staggered across the bridge a man came out from one of the buildings and began walking towards them. As he approached they took in his appearance in vague dread. The man was lean and easily in his sixties with balding unkempt brown hair that stuck out at all angles from the sides of his head. He was dressed in a drab long coat with buttons along the wide cuffs and collar similar to the one Charles' grandfather had worn with trim around the edges. His shirt was hidden by a vest of the same color and his eyes were sunken deeply into his head. His beard was wild and as he grinned at them in a rather unhinged way they noticed his teeth were yellow and crooked.

"Ah! Young master Charles!" The man wheezed, his breath fetid as he drew close to the man. "Welcome home...such as it is! This squalid hamlet, these corrupted lands! They are yours now and you are bound to them!" He grinned with a mad gleam in his eye as he gestured to the run down village with a hand. "Such a tragic end to my Lord, your Grandfather! Tragic…" He trailed off, gazing at him expectantly.

"Umm...thank you, I think." Charles replied hesitantly. "Forgive me but…"

"Oh! You don't remember old Williams?" He asked in a disappointed tone before suddenly cheering up with a manic smile. "But of course you were but a lad! The Caretaker of this place I have been for many years, yes! Oh so long! So long!" He wailed, his face becoming agonizing for a moment before shaking himself and smiling at them again. "Oh! But I am being selfish! Your friend, he needs help yes? Come! Come! Inside! This way!" He insisted, gesturing for them to follow him as he walked carefully up the dirt road.

"Rather...take me chances...with the musket ball." Dismas groaned quietly.

"Chin up." Reynauld replied softly. "He may be a bit off his rocker but he does not appear to mean us harm and he is offering us aid."

"Bloody wonderful." The highwayman grumbled as they made their way to a small house at the edge of the town.

As they looked about Charles became more and more dismayed at what he saw. The village was in near ruins with most of the buildings boarded up and few lights coming from them. The ground was washed out and seemingly dead with only packed dirt and mud to be found. The few people he saw wandering about the houses seemed listless and completely apathetic to their circumstances as if the fight had been beaten out of them, leaving nothing but empty shells behind. As they entered the Caretaker's lodgings they carefully lay Dismas down on the rickety bed where he sighed in relief.

"We'll need supplies to dig the ball out and prevent the wound getting infected." Reynauld told them. "What do you have on hand?" He asked the Caretaker.

The man wordlessly showed him to a storage room where various odds and ends sat on shelves. Reynauld quickly grabbed a pair of long-nosed pliers as well as bandages, medicinal herbs, and a vial of shining liquid sealed in wax. Returning to Dismas he found Charles in the process of opening his shirt to more easily view the wound.

"Carefully, we don't want him to bleed to death." Reynauld cautioned.

"I ain't...that bad off yet." Dismas retorted roughly. "You lot -erk!- act like I ain't never been -ah!- shot before!"

Charles grimaced at that before revealing the bloody hole in the man's side. Reynauld peered at it and carefully probed the wound before nodding.

"A simple shot straight in, looks like it got lodged against your rib. Should be a simple matter to extract it."

"Me coat's saved me...more than once." He replied. "Added some special padding in it...works like armor. Not -ow!- great armor mind but...better than nothin'."

Reynauld nodded as he broke the seal on the vial of liquid and carefully dipped the ends of the pliers into it, making the mixture bubble slightly.

"What is that?" Charles asked curiously.

"Holy water blessed by a true servant of the Light." Reynauld replied. "Among its various properties are the ability to cleanse corruption and taint from an object. It won't remove dirt or normal material but it will ensure the material is pristine."

Removing the pliers from the vial he then patted some of the powdered herbs on the ends to clean the tool further before he knelt and began to carefully insert them into the hole. Dismas grit his teeth with a hiss as the Crusader gently wiggled the ends of the pincers around the round ball and began to slowly ease it out. A moment later the ball came free and the wound began to bleed freely. Moving quickly he poured the remainder of the vial into the wound directly making it fizzle before pressing a bandage coated with the herbs against the wound before wrapping the rest of the roll around his chest and tying it off.

"There." Reynauld said with a smile. "The holy water will cleanse whatever infection might have begun and will also aid in healing. The herbs will keep it clean while the wound closes. A few days and you should be good as new."

"Good to know." Dismas grimaced. "I'll be stayin' here for the rest of the day I think."

"Ah! Good, good!" The Caretaker exclaimed happily. "The young master's servant is doing better! Good, yes, very good, you will need your strength in the days ahead!" He assured them with a serious nod.

Charles turned to him. "We were forced to leave our belongings behind on the road due to our coach being attacked. We'll need help retrieving them."

"A carriage we have master, yes!" The man assured him with a nod. "Rather rickety and worn but still works! Still works! Bags I can get but I will need help. Your man in armor I think. He will keep the meanies away while I stow the bags?" He asked.

Reynauld looked at the man oddly but nodded. "I will guard you while we collect our belongings."

"Good! Good!" The Caretaker cried enthusiastically. "Back in no time we will be with all the lovely trinkets and nick-nacks!"

"Well that's one problem solved." Charles said. "I also need to be brought up to speed on what's been happening here while we visit the manor."

"The manor?" The Caretaker asked fearfully, his mood suddenly changing. "Oh young master no! Not the manor! You are not ready yet! No indeed not!"

Charles frowned at the man's agitation. "What do you mean 'not ready'? Who do you presume you're talking to?"

"The letters young master! Did you not receive them?" He asked, his voice becoming more frantic and shrill. "But of course you must have or you would not be here but then how you could ask what your servant means by 'not ready'? Oh dear!" He exclaimed, wringing his hands as he paced back and forth.

"Will you please sit down and tell me what's been going on here?" Charles asked in exasperation.

The man immediately sat down on the floor with a _thump_ , surprising the trio, before the Caretaker looked up at them with haunted eyes.

"The Evil master!" He whispered intently, staring at Charles. "The Horrors! The madness my Lord unleashed! The portal, master, did he not speak of the portal he found?!"

"His letter mentioned a portal yes but he was rather vague in the details." Charles replied.

"When my Lord opened the portal," he moaned as he began to rock back and forth, clutching his head in his hands, "when the foulness came through!...they were!...No! No! I daren't say! No words master, no words!" He stared up at Charles, his eyes wide with naked fear and despair. "Nightmares! Nightmares made of flesh! But not even nightmares could be so...so...I saw them master! flesh that screams and rends!" He cried. "Bones that walk! Monsters! Madness! THINGS!" He screamed, utterly disconsolate. "THINGS THAT-" Words failed the man at that moment as he let out a wail of absolute despondency and misery that made the trio's blood run cold.

Unable to bear more Charles wrapped his arms around the old man as he knelt next to him while the poor servant sobbed in fear and hopelessness. Finally after several minutes the sobs subsided and the Caretaker took several deep breaths. Slowly looking up at Charles he stared into his eyes with naked pleading. "Fix it master?" He begged quietly, like a fearful child with a parent. "Make it all better again? Like it was before?"

Charles's heart broke at the pitiful state of the man and his aching request. But a moment later he felt strength like steel fill him and a determination that was unbreakable. He would not let this man, his people, down. No matter the cost he would ensure the foulness this man feared would be banished back into the hells which spawned it forever.

"You have my word!" Charles swore fiercely and for a moment he thought he saw a glimmer of hope in the man's deranged eyes.


	4. New Additions

Chapter 3: New Additions

"Now this is what I'm talkin' 'bout." Dismas smiled as pawed through the bag of glittering coins.

A hand smacked down on the velvet bag, making the highwayman jerk back as Charles pulled it out of reach. "I'll thank you not to touch part of my family's fortune like a hungry dog searching for a bone." The man snapped as he moved the bag to the other side of the desk he was sitting at. "We'll be needing it and more besides I fear."

The pair were sitting in the office of the Lord's house in the center of the town, the building being one of the few that had been kept in relative repair compared to the rest. The homes of the townsfolk had been better taken care of but most of the structures that made up the hamlet's business such as the guild hall, tavern, and blacksmith, had been eyesores. While Dismas had remained at the Caretaker's to heal Charles had walked about the town, letting all of the people know who he was and why he had come. Most had been somewhat happy to see a fresh face and the fact that he was the Lord's Heir, and apparently in his right mind, made many smile, though somewhat hesitantly. The pub master and the Abbot of the abbey had agreed to start putting things in order to cater to Dismas's and Reynauld's needs while the Crusader had traveled up the road to examine the ruins of the old cathedral that had once stood between the manor and the hamlet. Charles himself had begun putting the Lord's house in order and had discovered, amongst other things, a bag of coins worth about 5,000 Sovereigns hidden away. A hard day's work had turned the office and its adjacent sleeping room into decent enough lodgings and Charles had been in the process of going through some old deeds he had found as well.

"Needin' more?" Dismas asked with a bit of incredulousness. "The Lord o' the Treasury 'imself don't make that much in a year!"

Charles shook his head. "And how do you expect to put the town back in order? We will need to hire more workmen from nearby towns and purchase supplies such as lumber. All of them will need wages and all those supplies will need to be shipped here. If Reynauld returns with a bad report we will need to hire others to help us clear out the darkness here and that will mean advertisements in the papers and compensation for travel, not to mention food and their own wages. None of it will be cheap. I only hope some of my family's fortune still exists somewhere in the manor or in those ruins."

"We will definitely need the Vestal." Reynauld informed them unhappily as he entered the room without fanfare. "And probably several more stout men at the very least."

 _Oh dear._ Charles sighed mentally. "Let's hear it then." He replied.

"As expected the ruins of the cathedral are just that though the masons who built it did their work well enough, I doubt the place will collapse on us."

"Never mind the stonework, what's goin' on in there?" Dismas asked in annoyance.

"I dared not venture far, even before I entered the place I could sense the foulness of evil about it, clinging to every stone and beam like an oily film." Reynauld said as he sat down in one of the padded chairs in front of the desk. "The air was musty and had an unnatural scent about it. The entryway even had a few skeletons lying about."

"You sure it wasn' just decay from the bones?" Dismas asked.

Reynauld shook his head. "I know what death and decay smells like. There was that faint scent in the air as well but...no. It was something more than that. Something that made my hackles rise. But stranger still were the candles."

Charles frowned. "What about them?"

"They were lit." Reynauld replied with a grim look.

Charles blinked at this. "I fail to see..."

"I do." Dismas interrupted. "Nobody lights candles in a ruin 'less they're workin' or livin' in it. The folk round here don't go near the place and everywhere else is deserted. So who lit them candles?" He asked Charles with a pointed look.

"More to the point, the fact that whatever evil resides there can light them means they are intelligent, at least somewhat." Reynauld stated ominously. "Evil in itself is bad enough but evil with intelligence is truly a foe to be feared."

"Surely you gentlemen are overstating this just a bit?" Charles suggested uneasily, looking at the two of them.

The two men glared back at him wordlessly.

"You wished for my report and I have given it." Reynauld stated quietly with a hint of irritation. "What you choose to do with it is your own affair."

Charles sighed and shook his head. "My apologies, I did not mean to suggest...what you describe is frightening and I had hoped..."

"As had I." Reynauld replied, his tone softening a bit. "While I am prepared to fight evil wherever it may be, I am always glad to learn that the situation is not as terrible as I fear. In this case, however…"

"We got our work cut out for us." Dismas replied with a sigh.

"With your permission I shall send a missive to the Chapter Master informing him of the situation and request aid." He recommended as he stood. "We must have people here as soon as possible if we are to stop this evil before it grows even more powerful."

Charles nodded and the man took his leave with a respectful nod.

A moment after the door had shut behind the Crusader Dismas sighed quietly, his face pensive. "Had plenty of time to fester already, it has. Light knows what's down there."

"I fear we will find out all too soon." Charles suggested in the same tone, gazing blankly at the papers in front of him.

The next few days passed with Charles and Reynauld assisting the Abbot in cleaning the abbey. The cobwebs were dusted, the pews set straight, and the candles were lit once again. While the building itself was still in shambles it was at least serviceable.

"We are fortunate to have a responsible young man such as yourself take over the care of this place." The old Abbot said as he showed Charles the building, Reynauld having returned to the tavern to help out there. "I thought the Light had utterly forsaken this place when your Grandfather...achieved his ambitions."

"You needn't shy away from speaking bluntly." Charles assured him quietly. "From everything I've seen and heard my Grandfather obviously went quite mad before unleashing these horrors. I cannot believe it and yet I must. But I cannot fault you for harboring ill will or hatred towards him. If I had been there..."

"But you are here now and even that give the people of this hamlet a glimmering of hope." The man replied, stroking his short white beard. "And we need all the hope we can muster in these dark days."

As they passed by a pair of rooms Charles peeked into them. One contained an incense burner and soft pillows while the other was almost dungeon-like with various whips and blunt objects lying on a table along with a hard bench in the middle of the room.

"What manner of places are these doing in a church?" Charles asked him with a confused frown.

"This church was built to honor the Light and allow those who worship it to congregate." The Abbot explained, pulling his patchwork robe about him. "But in these latter days we have found that some find peace and forgiveness in other means and we must accommodate them, for to do otherwise would be cruel." He explained with a hint of regret. "Some reject the Light but find peace in meditation and contemplation. Others find that...physical pain and punishment help to relieve their guilt, whether it is deserved or not. The Light would never ask for such penitence of course, for it is always willing to forgive, but for some such knowledge is not enough. They feel they must punish themselves for what they have done." The man sighed deeply, his face troubled. "I have tried to minister to them as best I could but hope has been gone from this place for so long...some here are not in their right mind and I do not have the ability to cure them. Thus I am left with no alternative...I give them a measure of privacy and dignity and for a time it helps them be free from the guilt and the anguish. It is scarce comfort but at least for a time they are content. If I can give them that at least..." The man said, his voice breaking as he cried silently, leaning against the stone wall.

Charles rested his hand on the man's shoulder in support as he cried silently for several moments. Finally he cleaned his face on his faded robe and turned back to Charles, his eyes still tired but more composed.

"I cannot imagine how hard it has been for you and for everyone." Charles said quietly. "To shoulder such burdens and with no one to turn to with your own sorrows...you have done what many could not. You are a great and strong man, Abbot. Never think otherwise. You have all my respect for what you have done here."

The man smiled winsomely at this. "Thank you sir. But I am simply a humble servant of the Light, doing what I can. If you can deliver us from this darkness then it is I who will sing your praises to the end of my days."

Charles merely shook his head modestly. "I swore to do what I can, and I will. If it is within my power I will cleanse this place."

The Abbot let out a quiet laugh at this. "The Light shall cleanse this place with you and those you bring here as its instruments sir. Use what you have to achieve this but do not rely on your own power for men have no power except what the Light grants them."

Charles quirked a smile at this. "Is that part of your sermon for the Sunday service?" He asked.

The Abbot chuckled at this. "Perhaps, good sir, perhaps."

That afternoon a carriage pulled into the hamlet, thankfully unmolested by bandits. Charles and Reynauld came out to meet the new arrival as the coach pulled up.

"I'm glad to see they made it in one piece." Reynauld remarked.

"I suppose that little display when we arrived helped." Charles replied. "But we will need to ensure the roads are cleared as well."

The carriage door opened revealing a round-faced and pale young woman dressed in modest brown robes and a hood with a white headband keeping her hair back. Her chest and back were covered with a set of banded armor with spiked shoulder pauldrons and she wore a red sash about her waist upon which hung a spiked mace and holy book.

"We are glad to see you made it safely, miss…?" Charles asked.

"Vestal Gerri Boutina." The woman replied simply with a nod of her head. "You are Charles Ezekiel, yes?" She asked and Charles nodded.

"This is Crusader Reynauld Winters." Charles said, gesturing the to the armored man.

"A pleasure to meet you both." The woman said with a hint of warmth.

A moment later a second figure emerged from the carriage. The genderless figure was cloaked from head to toe in heavy robes of brownish-green and a hood with a pair of spiked pauldrons and long gloves. Around the figure's waist was a belt holding several types of pouches as well as orbs and vials of glass. Covering the person's face was a beaked bone-white mask with dark eyeholes signifying their profession as a plague doctor.

"Hannah Bellecoat." The figure stated plainly, her voice muffled slightly by the wrappings around her chin and mouth. "I was contacted by the Chapter Master of St. George to accompany Vestal Boutina to this town to assist in ensuring it is free from plague and other disease." Looking about at the state of the town she turned back to them. "I can certainly see why. I'll be surprised if I can find any healthy people at all here."

Charles frowned at the insinuation and the woman's cool tone but held his tongue. "We appreciate any assistance, of course." He said. "The Chapter Master was wise to send the two of you here as I'm sure we will need both your services."

"The Chapter Master explained the situation here at least in general." The plague doctor stated. "Apparently I am to assist in more than just ensuring the people of this town are healthy."

"Are you prepared for what we may ask of you?" Charles asked, recognizing a feminine lilt in the person's voice. "I realize a plague doctor, especially a lady such as yourself may not be used to fighting...especially not the evils that might be found here."

The masked woman gazed at him silently for a moment before she spoke. "I am well aware of the danger, the Chapter Master was most insistent that I understand what I might be getting into. I may be a woman but I assure you I am not some high society lady unused to getting my hands dirty." She stated, showing the discolored spots on her thick gloves. "I've walked among the worst slums in London as well as other places just as bad on the continent where disease and foulness run rampant, turning people into horrid mockeries of their former selves. Rest assured," she finished in a chilly tone, "I am well able to take care of myself."

Charles nodded. "My apologies for making assumptions about you Ms. Bellecoat. I shall not do so again."

The robed woman nodded brusquely before turning back to the town. "Now then, why don't we find some place for me to set up shop while you tell me of what's been going on here?"

Charles nodded. "An excellent idea. Reynauld, will you help Ms. Boutina settle in?"

"Certainly." Reynauld replied before turning to the Vestal. "Please follow me. We've been working to make the tavern more habitable and I'll introduce you to our other associate as well."

"Lovely." Gerri replied, favoring him with a cheery smile. "Perhaps, once the briefings are out of the way we can get to know each other better as well?" She suggested.

Reynauld raised an eyebrow at this but shrugged as he led her towards the tavern.

 _After all,_ he thought to himself, _the convents are rather cloistered. I doubt she has been around men much since her indoctrination and I have been told my face is pleasing to the eye. I shall have to tread carefully to ensure she does not get the wrong idea._

"So Vestal Boutina, tell me what the Chapter Master explained to you so I can fill you in on the details." He suggested in what he hoped was a business-like tone.

Dimpling, Gerri began to speak. "Mainly the Chapter Master spoke about the possibility of there being a very dark evil located here. He showed me your report and I made sure to read it carefully. It was quite thorough." She said with a quiet compliment in her tone.

"Thank you." Reynauld replied flatly as they passed a row of houses. "Tell me, which convent do you hail from?"

"The Sisters of the Light convent in the northern part of London." She replied. "Mother Superior specifically suggested that I be sent here to help."

Reynauld nodded. "She must have faith in your abilities to send you on such an important assignment as this." He suggested.

"Of course." Gerri replied, looking a bit thoughtful before turning to Reynauld with a smile. "So tell me, how long have you been in the Order?"

"I was introduced to the Chapter Master when I was still a lad." The man replied. "My family had decided that I would receive proper training under his tutelage, not to mention discipline."

"You were an unruly child?" She teased gently.

"Once could say that." He hedged, looking away for a moment.

Gerri giggled quietly at this. "Come now, you needn't be ashamed of that. Are not all children unruly at times?"

"Perhaps." Reynauld allowed though Gerri could tell he was not convinced.

"Well, whatever the Chapter Master did, it seems to have done some good." Gerri said. "You're quite the fine specimen."

Reynauld raised an eyebrow at this. "Of a Crusader." He stated with a bit of emphasis.

"Of course." Gerri demurred, though he could see her gaze suggested otherwise.

 _Light help me._ He sighed in his mind.

* * *

 _At the same time…_

"How long has the town been in this state?" Bellecoat asked Charles, her tone all business.

"I've only just arrived a few days ago myself." Charles admitted. "I've been around the town greeting people and trying to put things back in order."

"That was your first mistake, in my opinion." Bellecoat replied frankly. "If these people are diseased you and your companions have almost certainly contracted it. I fail to see how you will be able to help these people if you yourself are suffering from the same illnesses they are."

Charles frowned at this. "You certainly don't mince words do you?" He asked. _I would hate to be on the receiving end of her bedside manner!_

"When a patient's life is possibly measured in days you don't have time for flowery speech." The plague doctor retorted. "My focus here is to ensure no one dies if it can be helped. Whether that be by administering tonics to the sick or murdering wicked plague bearers with my scalpel so be it. I'm of the opinion that amputating a diseased limb to save the body is more important than trying to regenerate the limb and allowing the disease to spread further."

"Cold, Doctor, but in this case we may need such an ideology." Charles replied as they came to a crumbling tower-like structure close to the abbey. "I haven't yet been in here. Shall we?"

As they went through the various rooms they found several consisting of a bench with a pair of shackles and a rusting iron door with a grill in the center. There were also a few storage rooms and a room with a front desk.

"A prison and constabulary of some description, it would seem." Charles suggested. "The place seems firm enough. Will it do for your purposes?"

"I suppose." Bellecoat replied. "It will need quite a bit of cleaning but I've worked in worse conditions than this. Once the place is set up I will want to examine each of the townspeople individually to assess their overall health and whether they are infected. Once that is sorted out we can begin working on other matters. It will also give me some time to create some...personal

mixtures I've come up with over the years."

"Very well." Charles said. "Let me know when you are finished setting up. I'll go about and let people know you will be expecting them."

The woman dismissed him with a nod as she began unpacking her boxes filled with various glass jars of powders, liquids, and empty vials.

The next day was equally busy for all with Reynauld continuing to show Gerri around the town and explaining what her role was to be when cleansing the ruins. Bellecoat was kept busy setting up her equipment and cleaning the various rooms to turn it into a proper apothecary and makeshift hospital should the need arise. Dismas by this time had been healed of his wound and was assisting the pub master in Reynauld's absence to finish the last bit of repairs and housekeeping chores to make the taverns' rooms usable if rather spartan. Charles had been writing advertisements to be distributed by the Chapter Master to the local newspapers as well as sending out letters requesting workmen and supplies to help rebuild the town. When he was not ensconced in his office he was walking about the town letting people know that the plague doctor would soon be requesting their presence to inquire about their health.

Finally as evening fell he called the four of them together in his office.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen," he said, clasping his hands together as he leaned against the desk, "we have gone as far as we can with the repairs. I want to thank all of you for putting in all your hard work, this would have been impossible without you and I appreciate you putting in the extra labor. It speaks well of all of you." He assured them, glancing around at each of them.

"Well so far you been payin' well enough." Dismas replied with a sigh, propping his feet up on the corner of the desk, making the others glare at him at bit for his presumptuousness. "I s'pose that means tomorrow we start doin' real work eh?"

"Frankly I am almost relieved." Reynauld remarked. "Not that I have anything against manual labor, it is honest work and does the soul good. However I feel my talents have been, if not wasted, not put to their best use."

"I believe I'm in agreement." Hannah said matter-of-factly, for once devoid of her mask. "It's time we ventured into these ruins to see what is there. The vague fears of an insane Caretaker make for, if you'll excuse the expression, a poor diagnosis of the truth."

Charles nodded. "It is time. Tomorrow we make our first foray into the cathedral. May the Light be with us."


	5. A Mecca of Madness and Morbidity

Chapter 4: A Mecca of Madness and Morbidity

 _The next morning..._

"What do you mean we got to pay for this stuff?" Dismas asked in outrage to the Caretaker as the group prepared to embark, the group plus Charles standing in the building next to the Caretaker's rooms where the general store sat.

"All these things cost money good sir!" The Caretaker protested anxiously. "Surely I cannot just give them away!"

"We work for your bloody master!" Dismas retorted angrily. "We're tryin' to clear out the bloody ruins your bloody Lord bloody well mucked up 'cause he was bored one day!" Dismas shouted, slamming his fists on the counter. "What the sodding 'ell-!"

"Enough!" Charles barked, interrupting the man's tirade, before looking at the shivering Caretaker. "While the method of delivery was rather uncouth Dismas does have a point. He should not have to pay for supplies being used for this undertaking, nor should the others since they are here on my orders."

"B-but master!" The Caretaker stuttered. "Forgive your poor servant...hasty hasty words maybe to the poor gunman yes!...but-but all the town's supplies!" He exclaimed weakly. "Can we give them all away? Surely not! Only a few merchants are able to come through to bring the supplies, yes! The bandits!...wretched foul worms they are!...they take much for themselves...the dregs master!...the dregs and leftovers are all we get! Enough to get by with, yes, but we still must pay for the shipments! Money money money sir! They need it and we have so little of the shinies!" The man whined.

"No wonder you charge such daft prices." Dismas stated caustically. "Seventy five shillings for a bloody torch? I could make one meself for a few pence! Just get me a stick, some rags, and a bit o' rum to soak it in!"

The Caretaker giggled at this. "Oh good sir is a jester indeed! Hee hee hee!"

"Riiight…" Dismas drawled, keeping a wary eye on the unhinged man.

"Take what supplies you need and I will purchase more the next time the merchants arrive." Charles assured them. "Just try not to spend too much; unless we can find some gold or other valuables we can sell from what lies in the ruins we will need to be careful with the money."

Nodding Reynauld stepped up to the counter. "Let us bring two torches for each of us and two packs of rations. A pack or two of bandages just to be safe. Tell me, why are you selling keys?"

"Grandfather had a few types of keys that he would use for his strong boxes and other things." Charles explained. "I'm assuming you have copies of them?" He asked the Caretaker, gesturing to the small key rack nearby.

"Yes master I do." The man said with a vigorous nod. "A few copies of each I have, just in case."

"Two of those then." Reynauld suggested. "Those will doubtless last us awhile." He smiled.

"Will we need anything else?" Gerri asked him.

Reynauld looked over the various other supplies, from medicinal herbs and holy water to vials of anti-venom and the extremely expensive shovels before shaking his head. "I think this will do us for now."

Charles handed the money to the Caretaker to be tucked away for later while Reynauld distributed the provisions to the others. Everyone left the store, leaving the Caretaker behind, and walked a little ways towards the bluff where the ruins sat. In the distance, sitting like a mass of skeletal remains against the morning sun was the decrepit structure of the manor itself.

 _A mecca of madness and morbidity._ Charles thought, imagining his grandfather's voice in a moment of sentiment. _Your work begins._

He looked over at Reynauld. "Explore what you can and kill anything that stands in your way. You will not find anything decent or anyone wholesome in those ruins."

"By your orders, milord." The man said solemnly with a nod before beckoning the others forward.

About twenty minutes passed with group trudging their way up the winding path that led to the site of the cathedral, the sun slowly rising in the sky.

"What's this place for anyways?" Dismas asked. "That lot has an abbey in town, why would they need a cathedral too?"

"Prestige." Reynauld replied. "In earlier generations landowners used to build small cathedrals on their land to prove their wealth and influence to not only their rivals but the Church as well. The bigger the cathedral, the greater and more influential you were in the eyes of the world."

"Sounds like a big dick wavin' contest to me." Dismas said with a snort.

Reynauld frowned at the crude remark but nodded. "To put it bluntly, yes. The aristocracy wished to prove their worth to the Church and thus garner favor with the local Bishop or even the Cardinal when they would tour the countryside as they were wont to do occasionally, not to mention impress visiting dignitaries. Thankfully the practice has fallen into disuse these days. Such wasteful spending in the hopes of garnering political favors with the Clergy has always disgusted me."

"Well, 'opefully we'll find some nice shinies in there." Dismas remarked.

"Is money and material gain all you can think about?" Geri asked snidely. "Who knows what we might find in those ruins? Are you not worried about it?"

"'Course not." Dismas replied dismissively. "Worryin' won't do me aim no good. Nor me constitution. I ain't gonna worry till I see somethin' to worry 'bout."

"We should not fear." Bellecoat stated firmly. "We have with us two strong women and a powerful sword arm in Reynauld. That kind of strength can overcome any obstacle!"

"Oy! What 'bout me?" Dismas asked indignantly.

Bellecoat snorted in amusement beneath her mask. "I suppose we must have some comic relief to lift our spirits as we travel."

"Bloody wench." The Highwayman grumbled as they came to the site.

The massive gothic cathedral was partially fallen down with the majority of the windows broken. Small broken towers jutted up like splintered teeth in the morning light, the structure large enough to cast it own deep and creeping shadow over them. Leering and partially broken gargoyles glared down at them from the cornices as a murder of crows erupted from one of the higher broken windows, cawing raucously as they flew off. The entire structure was overgrown with ivy, weeds, and cobwebs as a tepid wind blew about. The entryway itself was marked by a large arch that had once held the double doors of the cathedral with the remaining walls partially broken or missing entirely, the doors themselves having fallen inwards and lying flat upon the uneven stone floor that was partially sunk into the ground. Inscribed upon the north-facing wall which was the most intact sat a large icon of a round-faced man with a ring of hair around the sides of his head which was itself engulfed in a halo, his hands placed before his face in pious prayer. Before the mural of the saint sat a small offering table with lit candles that fluttered in the slight breeze. Beneath the arched windows next to it sat a pile of bones.

"I see what you meant about the candles." Gerri said to Reynauld as they passed over the threshold, the woman's eyes flicking about. "Very odd that they would be lit. Almost as if we were expected. Even here I can sense the darkness of this place."

"Sensing the darkness." Bellecoat snorted dismissively. "What rubbish."

"Your senses are dull for you are not one of the Light's servants." The Vestal remarked tartly. "For those in tune with the higher mysteries such things are clear as day."

"Oy, ladies, can we stop the catfight for a bit an' focus on the job?" Dismas asked bluntly.

"Dismas is right, this is no time for squabbling." Reynauld remarked sternly, glancing at them both. "The inner door appears intact. Let's go." He said, pushing open the door.

Compared to the partially lit outer area the long corridor ahead of them was extremely dark and utterly silent. Taking a torch from one of the packs they used their flint to light it. The oil-soaked rags quickly caught and they entered the dusty hallway, shutting the door behind them. The air became oppressive almost immediately and the hallway itself suddenly felt more dangerous as if the darkness itself had suddenly taken on a life of its own. Writhing shadows danced and slithered back and forth just beyond the flickering light of the torch. Nearby they could see the remains of various skeletons littering the floor as well as aged pieces of parchment and broken wooden beams. The walls themselves were modeled as a series of archways with thick dust webs hanging from them, their vaulted panes of glass smashed and the thin stone between the panes broken. While most of the walls were intact parts of the masonry had broken away into small chunks.

Dismas felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise as he looked around. "Weird. Ain't nothin' wrong with this hallway but I'm gettin' the chills."

Gerri nodded. "The Dark can affect a person in such subtle ways even when no threat is present."

"You're all idiots." Bellecoat stated in annoyance. "Jumping at shadows already and we've just walked in the door. Are you all going to run away the first time a piece of the wall crumbles nearby?"

"Bellecoat." Reynauld warned sharply, glaring at her. The woman simply stared back at him silently, her mask covering her expression, though he had the distinct feeling she was glaring at him.

"We have seen nothing worrisome so far." Reynauld said to the others. "But it is good to prepare. I will remain up front, Dismas I want you a bit further back to make use of your pistol. Gerri and Bellecoat you remain back a bit more. We will need you to support us should we get attacked."

Nodding the group arranged themselves before making their way down the long corridor. Reaching a double wooden door at the end they walked through, entering a room that could have been a study or small library with various broken bookshelves scattered about as well as a fireplace on the opposite wall. Suddenly a series of screeches issued from the shadows and a trio of massive spiders, each the size of a large dog, scrambled into view, their multiple red eyes filled with malevolent intent.

"Light preserve us!" Gerri gasped as the creatures hissed in fury at them, raising themselves up on their hind legs briefly.

Reynauld rushed forward with a yell, slashing at one of the beasts with his sword. The spider screamed as the blade slashed across its body, slicing it open and causing its entrails to partially spill out.

"Back!" Dismas yelled and Reynauld jumped backward out of range of the Highwayman's pistol. Dismas immediately fired sending grape shot slugs into each of the creatures, killing the one Reynauld had gravely wounded, the other two screeching in pain with several of their eyes damaged.

"My turn!" Bellecoat stated firmly, reaching for a globe filled with greenish fluid attached to her belt and flinging it at the pair of spiders. The ball exploded as it hit the floor in front of them spraying the fluid inside across both of them, making them stumble back on their pointed legs.

"How helpful." The Vestal remarked tartly as she opened her spell book. "Now see the true power of the Light! Let Judgement come upon my foe!" She shouted.

A blaze of light coalesced around hand before shooting forwarding striking one of the beasts, making it scream as the divine light sizzled away its flesh, making it fall.

The last spider suddenly spat a blob of poisonous fluid at Gerri. Unable to move quickly enough it splashed against her armor with some of the acidic bile catching her in the face, making her wince as it burned.

Suddenly the spider began to writhe in pain as it squealed.

"What's happening?" Reynauld asked urgently.

"My special recipe." Bellecoat said smugly as the creature wobbled towards them. "A mixture of powerful flesh-eating bacteria in an accelerating suspension that reacts with air. I call it a plague grenade." She stated with satisfaction as the creature fell to the ground with a _thump_.

"Useful indeed." Reynauld remarked as the creature expired a moment later with a slow hiss. "Remind me never to let you near my food if I happen to upset you."

The Plague Doctor barked a laugh. "What makes you think I'd need to poison your food? You have to wear clothes at some point."

Reynauld felt himself become somewhat pale, grateful that the armor hid his pallor as he motioned for the others to follow after him.

"Are you alright?" Bellecoat asked Gerri as they entered the next corridor. "That spit of theirs looked rather nasty."

"I'm fine." Gerri assured her. "Only a little bit got on my skin. It burned a bit but my armor took most of it. Thank you for your concern." She said with a smile.

"I wasn't concerned." Bellecoat replied flatly. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't injured. We didn't need you slowing us down if you were." She said before moving on.

The Vestal frowned at the woman's apathetic words before following after her.

"Not too bad so far." Dismas remarked. "Never thought I'd see bloody spiders as big as that. How'd they grow so big in 'ere?" He wondered as he reloaded his pistols.

"The Dark's influence no doubt." Gerri replied. "We should not be surprised to find similar things in here."

"Torch is starting to go dim." Dismas remarked, glancing at the torch in the Vestal's hand. "Bloody oil don't last long does it?"

"Light another to make up the difference." Reynauld replied. "I would rather not be caught by surprise in here."

A spark was struck as Bellecoat lit one of hers from her pack before they entered another room. In the middle of the room, seemingly waiting for them, was another group of four spiders just as big as the others.

"Bloody 'ell! More of 'em!" Dismas complained, readying his pistol.

Gerri tossed her torch to the ground, reaching for her book as Reynauld once again leapt forward. This spider, however, seemed to anticipate his attack and dodged backward before ejecting thick webbing from its body, entangling him in the sticky substance.

Dismas quickly fired another round of grape shot at the group, hitting them as the Crusader struggled to free himself using his sword to cut apart the strands. Furious at the Highwayman's attack one of the spiders scuttled forward on swift legs before leaping at Dismas. The man quickly tried to dodge but the spider's fangs latched onto his leg before stabbing into his thigh. Dismas cried out in pain as he felt the spider's venom enter his veins before bringing his dirk down fiercely, stabbing the foul creature in the head. Screeching in pain the spider yanked out its fangs as it scrambled back giving Dismas precious seconds to reload his firearm. Meanwhile Bellecoat threw another of her plague grenades, hitting the two spiders that were further back, the consuming bacteria splattering into their eyes. Gerri cried out another demand for Judgement and light burst from her hand once more, hitting one of the spiders and making it squeal while Reynauld finally managed to free himself. The spider that had just bitten Dismas suddenly jumped at Reynauld with an angry hiss, attempting to bite him as well but the Crusader dodged out of the way, putting him close to two of the creatures. Quickly reaching for a scroll case at his hip he pulled out a scroll that seemed to glow with divine light. Allowing it to unroll he quickly cried out in a strident voice. "I accuse you of consorting with Darkness! In the name of the Light, begone!"

A blaze of power erupted from the holy text making one of the spiders explode into pieces of bloody viscera and driving the other one back with a scream, the light searing its body. Reynauld quickly moved out of the way of the others as he swiftly rolled up the scroll and replaced it back into the scroll case on his belt. The spiders in the rear quickly attacked with Gerri finding herself being bound up similarly to the way Reynauld had been with Bellecoat being on the receiving end of a glob of spit, though her heavy robes absorbed most of the damage. Drawing his knife Dismas ran forward, slashing at the head of one of the spiders, making it bleed and stumble back. The last spider spit another blob at Dismas who quickly ducked.

"Stay down!" Bellecoat shouted as she lobbed another grenade at the spider who had just attacked him. The globe smashed against the thing's face and it screamed as the flesh-eating bacteria ate away at it before it fell to the ground in a heap. Reynauld stabbed his sword into the remaining spider as it struggled to rise from Dismas's attack, killing it.

The threats dispatched everyone took a moment to collect themselves while Gerri quickly moved to Dismas who had sat heavily onto the dusty stone floor, gripping his thigh through hissed teeth.

"Anti-venom! Now!" He barked.

Gerri quickly dug into her pack, plucking the vial out before handing it to Dismas who quickly swallowed the green liquid before tossing the empty bottle away in disgust.

"Bloody stuff tastes like sewer water but it's better than feelin' fire in me veins." He said with a cough.

Bellecoat walked over to one of the dead spiders and quickly cut away one of its fangs with a scalpel obtained from one of her pouches. Digging the blade into the spider's body she efficiently dissected its venom sac before collecting some of the fluid in a vial.

"What are you doing?" Reynauld inquired from nearby.

"A rudimentary test." Bellecoat replied offhandedly as she took out a few implements and small pouches from the bags on her belt. "I want to find out how potent that venom is."

"You can do that?" Gerri asked curiously.

"With a full laboratory certainly." The woman replied crisply. "With the stocks I have on hand I will only be able to make an educated guess on its toxicity. But I will at least be able to tell whether it's deadly or not."

"How's that?" Dismas asked roughly, his face still scrunched with discomfort.

"The use of some simple reagents to create a reaction." She said somewhat cryptically.

Taking a pair of thin metal tweezers in hand she opened a few of the small pouches before her and took pinches of powder from each one, placing them into the vial with the poison before adding a bit of water from a flask and mixing it carefully. A few moments later the liquid turned a pale green.

"Hmmm, not too bad then." She remarked idly, capping it before putting her pouches away. "If the liquid had turned purple you might have been in trouble. As it happens this stuff is fast-acting but not deadly in small doses. It'll slow you down and hurt like hell but it won't kill you...unless you get bitten by half a dozen of those things all at once of course." She said with an amused tone.

"Bloody wonderful." The man grumbled. "Stuff seems to be workin' though. I think I'll be on me feet in a few."

After a few minutes with Gerri wrapping his leg wound with some cloth Dismas finally got to his feet. Walking about near some of the broken furniture against the wall to test his legs he discovered discovered a small dusty pouch filled with some Sovereigns and what appeared to be shards of onyx.

"Finally found a few bits of good luck." He muttered, stowing the pouch in his pack. "Fortune smirks at least."

"Everyone ready to go?" Reynauld asked.

A chorus of nods confirmed this a moment later as they exited the room and began walking down another hallway. As they walked they came across an iron maiden sitting against the wall, slightly ajar.

"Strange to find somethin' like this 'ere." Dismas remarked as he carefully opened it before inspecting the inside.

Suddenly the iron door slammed shut of its own volition with a loud clang making the Highwayman yell.

"Dismas!" Reynauld shouted as he ran over to the device. "Are you alright?"

"Get me out o' this bloody thing!" Dismas shouted frantically, the Highwayman pressing his back against the rear of the device as he panted heavily in fright, the rusty and broken spikes centimeters from piercing him with two of them directly in front of his eyes.

Reynauld quickly tried using the two keys they had purchased from town but neither one would fit the keyhole. Gripping the lock he struggled to break it with all his strength before he gave up moments later. "The damn thing's jammed somehow. I could have sworn the lock was broken a moment ago!"

"Get me out you tossers!" Dismas yelled.

"We're doing our best!" Gerri called to him. "Don't worry, we'll have you out soon! Are you injured?"

"No but I bloody will be if I move!" He retorted.

"He is fortunate those spikes are rusted away." Bellecoat observed. "Otherwise he'd be bleeding out by now."

"Not helpful Bellecoat! Do you have any suggestions for actually getting him out?" Reynauld asked in frustration.

The Plague Doctor seemed to sneer at him before checking her pouches. "I have some acid on me which may eat away the lock."

From one of her pouches she removed a small glass tube with a narrow end and a vial of greenish liquid. Removing the cork from the vial she placed the narrow end of the glass tube into the keyhole of the locking mechanism before carefully dripping part of the vial's contents into the tube and down into the lock. Moments later a bit of smoke began to rise from it as she slowly continued to drip the acidic fluid into the mechanism. After about 15 minutes of Dismas cursing and yelling himself nearly hoarse the vial was empty. Stepping back she motioned for Reynauld to try again. As the Crusader bent down again Gerri stepped beside her and murmured in her ear.

"I'm curious, what do you normally use that small tube and acid for?"

"Clearing wax from a patient's ear canal." She stated in a bored tone.

Gerri stepped back with a shocked gasp only to hear the woman chuckle quietly from beneath her mask, making her frown.

"You could have told me the truth you know." The Vestal stated with an annoyed frown.

"I could have." The Plague Doctor agreed. "But it was much more enjoyable to see your reaction."

"Got it!" Reynauld cried as the damaged mechanism came free with a loud SNAP. He quickly yanked the maiden's door open to see Dismas trembling, his face pale and sweating as he stumbled out.

"I ain't never goin' in a closet again!" He swore, his voice slightly hysterical. "That bloody thing was haunted! First the damn venom, now this! What the 'ell?!"

Bellecoat stepped forward and examined him brusquely before stepping back. "No obvious injuries. I believe you owe me a 'thank you' for getting you out." She suggested archly.

"Sod off!" He retorted, still shaken from the experience of being trapped.

"Let's take a moment to let Dismas get his bearings." Reynauld suggested carefully.

As the group rested for a moment Reynauld slowly wandered further away, moving close to one of the windows. Glancing down he saw a small rucksack partially hidden behind a column. Glancing back at the others he carefully knelt down and opened it.

From within came the gleam of coin in the flickering torchlight.

Licking his lips and checking to see that the others were not looking in his direction he carefully removed his gauntlet and scooped up the coins, placing them in one of his pouches before tying it shut and replacing the metal glove. He casually walked back to where the group was waiting with no one the wiser. After a few minutes the Highwayman had calmed down sufficiently for them to continue.

As they entered the next room they spotted a group of four figures standing in the gloom. As they shambled forward Gerri gasped in fear as four grinning skeletal faces leered back at her. The first skeleton wore a tattered kilt about its waist and held a club in its hand. The second was slightly better dressed, wearing tattered armor around its waist and a single shoulder guard as well as gloves and wielded a simple sword. The ones in the back were different with one covered in armor befitting a conquistador with pantaloons and a breastplate as well as a bowled helmet, armed with a crossbow. The fourth, standing further back from the others, was dressed in the old finery of a courier with a furred overcoat of black and purple. Adorning its skull was a round furred hat topped with a puffed ball. In its hands it bore a dagger and a goblet filled with some unidentifiable liquid.

"Undead?!" Gerri asked in a trembling voice. "I-I never thought…"

"Save the disbelief for a less precipitous moment!" Bellecoat barked, shaking the Vestal out of her frozen state.

Wasting no time Reynauld charged the closest one bearing the club, his sword smacking hard against the unnatural creature. Bone splinters flew, pelting his armor but the thing seemed not to care as it swung its club at Reynauld's head who ducked. Dismas's pistol spat grapeshot with a clap of thunder but the spray merely smacked against the second, sword-bearing skeleton, the rest of it missing.

"Not easy to shoot bloody bones is it?" He grumbled to himself as he quickly reloaded.

"I suppose it's up to me then." Bellecoat stated with dark amusement as she lobbed another plague grenade at the rear of the group only to gasp softly in shock as the well-dressed skeleton smacked it away almost dismissively with a hand, sending it smashing against the wall. At the same time the crossbowman fired a bolt, the sharp stake of wood slamming into the Plague Doctor's shoulder, making her stumble back with a cry of pain as she felt the bone underneath fracture. Gerri quickly moved to aid her, the Vestal yanking the bolt out of her with a cry before pressing a hand against the wound and calling upon her powers.

"May the Light's divine grace heal this wound!" She prayed frantically. A moment later light blossomed under her fingers as she gripped the wound tightly. She winced as Bellecoat cried out in pain from the bone re-setting itself before it healed, though the wound still bled sluggishly. As she turned back to the others she suddenly found the courier striding towards her. Before she could speak the skeleton tossed the contents of the goblet towards her, making the liquid splash against her face and chest.

Gerri cried out in shock as the vile liquid seemed to seep into her skin. Wiping her face with the sleeve of her robe she opened her eyes and gasped. The very air before her seemed to warp unnaturally and the skeletons, while frightening before, now had become even more terrifying. Dark, twisted laughter ushered from their leering mouths as red pinpricks of light glowed malevolently within their eye sockets.

"Light help us!" She cried fearfully.

"Focus damnit!" Bellecoat shouted at her. "We need you!"

Looking at the others she saw another crossbow bolt sticking out of Dismas's thigh as he fired another shot at the club-bearing skeleton, making it stagger back while Reynauld and the sword-wielding skeleton fought each other furiously, their blades clashing back and forth. The skeleton holding the club ran towards Dismas and Gerri heard a roar of anger come from its mouth as it charged, preparing to swing. Forcing herself to fight she held out her hand again.

"The Light Judges you!" She shouted, sending a bolt of power flying towards the skeleton. The ray slammed into the creature, making it stumble as its ribcage exploded into a thousand pieces. Dismas quickly yanked out the crossbow bolt before pressing his pistol to the skeleton's head and pulling the trigger. Thunder erupted across the room as the creature's skull exploded apart, sending it flying back. At the same time Reynauld managed to slash at his own opponent, shattering its arm and sending its sword flying. Unarmed, the disabled skeleton quickly ran to get its sword back, allowing the group to focus on the remaining two.

"How can such things exist?" Gerri asked Bellecoat frantically as she moved to Dismas to try and heal him.

"I for one will be very interested in learning more about them. Once we've hacked them to pieces of course." The Plague Doctor replied with relish.

"By the Light's divine grace, I pray thee heal!" The Vestal murmured fervently. Light bloomed again, staunching the flow of blood slightly from the man's wounded leg, his trousers stained red.

"I've had enough of taking a back seat." Bellecoat stated firmly before running forward towards the well-dressed skeleton and pulling a slim blade from her belt.

"Die!" She shouted as she swiftly slashed the blade across the skeleton's spine. The razor-sharp edge cut neatly through the bone just beneath its chin, nearly severing the creature's head from its body. Suddenly the woman felt the cold steel of a knife stab through her robe's thick layers and pierce her in the stomach. At the same time a crossbow bolt slammed into her back between her shoulder blades, the force of the impact thrusting her forward and the knife held by the skeleton even deeper into her body. Gasping she fell to her knees as she felt strength leaving her.

"Damnit!" She gasped, her blade slipping from her hand as she felt blood pooling inside her clothes and coating her chest, the bolt seemingly lodged against her spine, making her body throb in pain with each heartbeat.

Suddenly thunder roared across the room and the courier's head was flung away into the darkness, the body collapsing before her. A moment later she felt a woman's hands on her shoulders and Reynauld's loud shout as his sword clanged against armor.

"I guess...you get...the last word." Bellecoat moaned weakly.

"You're not dying here!" Gerri swore as she yanked out the crossbow bolt, making the dying woman cry out in pain. "Let the Light's blessing fill you!" She prayed.

Suddenly power flowed into Hannah's body making her gasp in shock. A feeling like warm, soothing water flowed through her and she felt her strength return. Though her body still ached she found she was able to feel her extremities again, the wound in her stomach bleeding slightly less.

"That...might keep me alive a...few more minutes." Bellecoat admitted breathlessly. "Any chance...for another one?"

"I will try." Gerri assured her.

Not far away Reynauld grunted as the crossbowman shot another bolt at him, the projectile slamming into his armor and hitting him in the hip. The creature's ancient armor was scored and its trousers slashed apart as the Crusader had tried to cut away at the creature. Pushing back the pain with a loud yell he swung his blade, slamming it into the side of the creature's head, knocking the bowled helmet aside as it clanged to the floor. Dismas's pistol roared and the creature staggered as part of its skull became pulverized. Taking advantage of the momentary disorientation Reynauld slammed the pommel of his sword against the skeleton's damaged head, smashing in its skull completely and causing it to fall to the floor. Nearby Gerri was finishing a healing spell on Dismas, having removed the bolt from his leg. After ensuring he was not in danger she returned to Bellecoat, helping the woman to her feet where she had been resting. Reynauld took a few moments to carefully dig the bolt out of his armor, thankful that the padding underneath had slowed it down, the bolt causing little more than a flesh wound.

"Is everyone alright?" He asked a bit breathlessly.

"Me leg ain't feelin' too hot but I'll live." Dismas grunted as he limped towards him.

"I think I'm alright." Gerri replied, her eyes a bit unfocused as she helped Bellecoat. "Hannah's not in a good way."

"As long as I don't do something stupid like that again I think I'll be fine." The woman replied in a winded tone, taking her time to speak. "Whatever she did it...managed to staunch the stab wound enough. I don't think I'm...bleeding inside anyway. And I can walk...I wasn't sure about that a few minutes ago thanks to that...crossbow bolt."

"I believe we have one room left to check on the ground floor." Reynauld said quietly. "Let us ensure it is clear and we can return to town."

"Looks like some boxes over 'ere." Dismas mentioned as he hobbled over to a stack of crates against the far wall. "Care to take a gander?"

"I suppose it will not hurt to check." Reynauld replied.

Taking hold of his sword he brought the pommel of it down upon one of the crates, splitting it open. Inside, packed in straw, sat several heads carved out of various types of stone.

"Well I'll be...busts." Reynauld remarked with some surprise.

Each of them took one of the pieces out of the box and dusted them off.

"I can't say I recognize any of them." Bellecoat remarked as she turned the marble head in her hands this way and that.

"I think one of them is of St. Gerome the Sanguine." Gerri replied. "We have a small statue of him at the convent."

"Should fetch a pretty pence or two to the right buyer." Dismas remarked. "Good quality work this is and good condition too."

"Let's see what's in the others then." Bellecoat replied.

Reynauld quickly smashed open the other two crates. One of them contained several small gilded crests and a small folio of papers while the other contained a few paintings in metal frames.

"Pack them up. Hopefully Master Ezekiel will have some ideas about how to put these to use." Reynauld suggested.

A few moments later found the group making their way down the dark hallway.

"Can you use more of your power to heal me further?" Bellecoat asked Gerri.

The woman shook her head sadly. "I have tried such things before but the Light will not answer my call unless I or another are in direct peril because of an enemy. I spoke with the others about this at the convent soon after I began my training. They had heard stories of some of the high priests being able to heal at will but that could just be rumor. The Mother Superior said it had always been this way. She thinks it is to ensure our humility that we might not become overconfident in battle or arrogant towards others but I find that hard to believe. Still, I cannot complain overmuch. After all, I have managed to save others that might have died were it not for the Light granting me the ability to heal them."

"It seems to me this Light of yours is rather selfish, giving out its power in such a limited way." Bellecoat remarked acerbically as they made their way down the hallway to the final door.

The Vestal frowned, affronted by the woman's remark. "The Light does not need to do anything. The fact that it gives us power at all to fight evil shows its benevolence."

"If you say so." The Plague Doctor replied, clearly unimpressed as she lit another torch to shore up the fading light.

Coming to the door Reynauld paused. "Is everyone ready?"

"As we'll ever be." Dismas replied with a sigh.

Nodding the Crusader pushed open the door.

"Soddin' 'ell!" Dismas cursed as they entered the room.

Before them stood a group similar to the previous room except there were two couriers standing in the back instead of a crossbowman.

The skeleton holding the sword immediately charged at Reynauld, stabbing him near the elbow where his armor connected, making him cry out in pain before he wildly slashed at the monster, smacking it hard with the flat of his sword against its skull, making it stagger back. Unfazed the creature began to quickly stab at Reynauld forcing the Crusader to parry and dodge. Dismas pulled out his pistol and quickly fired, the shot sailing over the heads of the couriers who seemed to grin at him malevolently. Racing forward they threw the contents of their cups towards the Highwayman. Dismas dodged to the side, the liquid splashing onto Bellecoat and Gerri instead, making the women cry out.

Bellecoat grabbed a globe from one of her pouches and flung it angrily at the closest courier. The sphere exploded in the creature's face letting out an actinic burst of light which caused it to stumble back, swaying drunkenly.

"Hit it now while it's stunned!" Bellecoat demanded loudly.

Her body shivering from the effects of the vile concoction the skeletons had thrown on her, the Vestal once again focused her mind and called forth her power. Light burst from her hand and slammed into the swaying skeleton, making it hiss loudly as part of its body exploded into fragments. Meanwhile the club-bearing skeleton charged at Dismas only to be flung backwards by a pistol shot to the head.

"Back off ya soddin' tosser!" Dismas shouted to the undead. "I ain't for you!"

Suddenly Reynauld let out a shout of triumph as his powerful swing decapitated the head of his foe, sending the skull flying across the room while the rest of its body crumpled before him. Taking advantage of the other skeleton being momentarily off-balance Reynauld charged forward before slamming the pommel of his sword into the creature's head. As the skeletal warrior staggered back Reynauld swung his blade with all his strength. The leering skull shattered from the furious blow, sending the body flying. Hissing angrily the remaining couriers quickly flung more of their hateful potion at Reynauld, the liquid somehow seeping in between the seams of his armor to soak him.

"Light preserve us!" He cried as the shadows suddenly came alive with glowing eyes seemingly appearing all around them. "We're surrounded!"

"What are you talking about?" Bellecoat demanded fearfully, looking about as she held up one of the torches. "I don't see anything!"

"There better not be any more of the soddin' things!" Dismas insisted. "I ain't got much left in me!"

"It's that liquid they're throwing, whatever it is!" Gerri insisted. "Focus your minds! Don't let your fears overwhelm you! We are too close now!"

"Take this!" The Plague Doctor shouted as she threw another of her grenades. The aggressive bacteria splashed against the pair of skeletons and quickly began to eat away at the remaining ligaments and tendons holding the creatures together. As one of the couriers attempted to throw the contents of its seemingly never-ending chalice again, Reynauld swung his sword, knocking it from the creature's hand before swinging back to try and hit it a second time. Screeching angrily the skeleton ducked the second swipe before pulling a dagger from beneath it's coat and stabbing Reynauld in the side as the second courier attempted to flank him. Dismas's pistol roared in response knocking the second undead back and allowing Bellecoat to throw another grenade at it, knocking it to the ground. Dodging another stab of the courier's dagger Reynauld slashed at it with his sword, cutting off one of its arms while Dismas fired another shot, shattering its pelvis. As Reynauld delivered the killing blow to the skeleton before him the one nearby suddenly rose up, racing towards him with its own dagger. Shouted furiously, the Vestal fired a blast of light from her hand that knocked the creature to the ground, immolating it an instant before it would have reached the knight, making him spin around in surprise.

As the flames died down they took a moment to scan the room for other assailants. Finding none they sat down onto the floor to rest. Reynauld slowly removed his helmet with a sigh, his face pale as he looked to the others. Dismas' clothes were soaked with blood and the two women were covered in the wet substance the skeletons had thrown at them. The man could see Gerri's hands shaking slightly, her eyes wide with fear as she looked about her. Of Bellecoat he could sense little though he could tell she was still gravely injured as the woman sat still while taking in deep breaths, her hands clasped in her lap, her mask still covering her face. As he looked about a sense of unreality continued to permeate his senses, making every shadowed corner whisper with malevolent intent just beyond the torch light

"Let's get out o' this bloody madhouse." Dismas murmured in an unsettled voice.

"I couldn't agree more." Reynauld replied with a worried look.

* * *

A/N: The issue of money and what things cost is going to be somewhat vague as the game only uses gold as currency. However in the late 1800's in England, which is where the game more or less takes place, a person could live comfortably on around 60 pounds (or gold Sovereigns) a year so several thousand gold would be enough for all of your characters to live well for a year or two at least. This means the idea of shovels being worth 250 gold apiece is absurd, even with merchants charging highly inflated prices for the dangerous travel to the hamlet and back. I will try to be consistent regarding these matters but the worth of various things, including the trinkets as well as crests, busts, etc. will be fudged somewhat depending on the situation.


	6. Interactions

A\N: Jim Madigan: Thank you for the very kind review. It's people like you that give fanfiction writers the impetus to keep going. It's true I could have created an alternate currency system or just used gold without explanation but I wanted to try and have the story fit into the 'real world' as much as it could to give the reader the ability to relate more closely to it, or at least as close as one can relate to an upper middle class gentleman in 19th Century England.

Chapter 5: Interactions

"Ahh! Bloody 'ell!" Dismas swore as Reynauld removed the poultice from his leg, the wounded limb still red and warm at the wound sites where the spiders and bolts had pierced him.

"Suck it up." Bellecoat sighed as she reclined on one of the couches in the room, her mask and robes off to the side revealing the woman's sharp face and jet black hair, dressed in a simple blouse and loose pants. "You're lucky none of those bolts hit a major artery or you wouldn't have made it back."

"Shut up!" Dismas retorted. "You got bloody ice in your veins, you know that?" He demanded.

"In my line of work it's rather necessary." She retorted. "I doubt you'd have the stomach for dealing with victims infected with plague. I could tell you stories..."

"Please Hannah, try not to strain yourself." Reynauld insisted quietly. "You have your own injuries to heal from you know?"

"Thank you for the reminder." She sniped with a frown. "Obviously I'd forgotten I was in pain."

Reynauld merely shook his head as he held his tongue, knowing that further words were useless as he applied a new bandage covered in medicinal herbs to the man's leg, tying it tight. Looking about the study in which they were convalescing to ensure nothing else needed to be done, he stood and walked out the door, shutting it. Standing against the wall waiting for him was Charles.

"Come." The man stated quietly, beckoning him as they walked down the hallway to the man's office. The pair settled themselves in chairs with Charles behind the desk and the Crusader sitting in front of it.

"I didn't want to speak with them in earshot as I want your honest opinion regarding them and your first engagement." He explained. "But first of all, how are they?"

"Injured." Reynauld said with a tired sigh. "Bellecoat considerably so. If not for Gerri's powers she would have died there. Dismas suffered from spider venom as well as getting shot in the leg, Gerri in the shoulder. It will take several days of constant care, possibly a week for their injuries to heal. Thankfully my armor allowed me to survive most of what was thrown my way."

"Tell me." Charles prompted.

The Crusader spent the next hour or so detailing all that had transpired in the cathedral and the creatures they had fought. Through it all Charles sat silently with a pensive look on his face.

"This matter is obviously far more grave than we first thought." Reynauld concluded. "This one outing nearly killed Dismas and Bellecoat."

"Hannah because she disobeyed orders and acted foolishly." Charles suggested with a frown.

"Perhaps." Reynauld acknowledged with a nod. "But she does not have combat experience so it is not surprising. No doubt she is used to working on her own and relying on herself. She is not a fool though, she now knows very well the cost of acting rashly. She won't do so again if I'm any judge."

Charles nodded. "You think we will need more help?"

Reynauld nodded. "It is paramount that we receive more aid. The four of us alone will not be enough. The loss of even one would be catastrophic in a place such as that."

"Very well, I'll write to the Chapter Master and let him know. Sign your own name at the bottom of the letter when I'm finished with it as an endorsement. He should be able to spread the word about London and the surrounding cities as well."

"No doubt that will cost a great deal." Reynauld suggested unhappily.

"True but the relics you brought back should help in that regard." Charles replied. "I'll send them along as well to have them appraised. I trust the Chapter Master's character so I do not believe he would keep more of the proceeds than he should. The funds should allow him to advertise as well as provide a small down payment for those that apply, for future services rendered."

The Crusader nodded. "I do not disagree. Is there anything else before I retire?" He asked as he stood.

"No." Charles replied. "Get some rest yourself. It would not do to have the leader of the group fail to recuperate as well."

Nodding with a slight smile of appreciation Reynauld excused himself.

* * *

 _4 days later, that evening…_

"What do you mean I ain't allowed t' use the tables?!" Dismas demanded of the tavern keeper. "You saw me, I helped set up the bloody things!"

"And I also saw you palming cards the minute you were able to play!" The man retorted gruffly. "I let it slide because it didn't matter back then but I'm not going to let you cheat these people out of what little coin they have!"

"You got no proof o' any o' that!" Dismas insisted. "I'm here t' 'elp save your bloody town I am!"

"And that gives you the right to cheat?" The man demanded, his mustache bristling. "I think not! Everything else is available to you but no gambling!" He stated firmly before walking away.

"Bloody ungrateful sod." The Highwayman grumbled under his breath as he hobbled over to the bar. "Then get me a pint, I'm bloody parched!" He called out.

The barkeep returned a few moments later with a mug of ale, sitting down in front of him with a _thud_.

"I'll have one of those I think." Said a cool feminine voice behind Dismas.

The Highwayman glanced over his shoulder to see Bellecoat carefully sit on the barstool next to him, her onyx hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.

"You sure you should be up an' about like this?" He asked dubiously.

She glanced at him disdainfully for a moment.

"Right. Forgot who I was talkin' to." He grumbled, refocusing on his own drink.

A wisp of a triumphant smile played about her lips for a moment before her drink arrived, the barkeep wandering off immediately. Taking a careful sniff she took several swallows of the pale liquid.

"Not bad, considering." She remarked offhandedly.

"You was expectin' it be infested with plague maybe?" Dismas asked with a sidelong glance.

As the woman returned his glance he saw a twinkle of sharp humor in her dark eyes. "Considering some of the places I've been and the general condition of this place...let's just say I considered the possibility."

Dismas snorted. "Barkeep better not hear you say that or he'll 'ave your 'ead."

Bellecoat chuckled arrogantly for a moment at that. "Please! That overgrown slug wouldn't have a chance. Still, I suppose it wouldn't do to have the man dislike me, I'd rather not subsist on substandard food and drink while I'm here."

"Sounds like a good idea. Use that thinkin' with everyone else an' everythin' will be fine." He suggested quietly with another sip.

"Yes, I'm sure it would." She replied indifferently. "But as I'm here to do a job, an extremely dangerous one apparently, I'd rather not make friends. I'm sure you can relate to that given your...former line of work."

Dismas glared at her briefly before shrugging. "There's always that risk, no matter what you do. Had a mate of mine get run over by a lorry once. Nice bloke, worked in a library, never hurt a fly. As quiet a life as you could want an' a lorry gets 'im. Danger everywhere, ain't there?"

"I do believe you just proved my point." Bellecoat replied with a hint of amusement. "Why make friends at all?"

"Some people like companionship, don't they?" He replied. "Not everyone can be like you. You got any family, people you're close to?"

"I don't really see how that's any of your business, frankly." The woman replied lazily, taking another sip. "In a few weeks we probably won't see each other again."

"You think the job's done that quick?" He asked her curiously. "I don't think so."

She snorted. "You're such an optimist, it's almost cute. If this first expedition nearly did one of us in what do you think's going to happen the next time we go down in there?"

Throwing back the rest of her drink she eased her way off of the barstool before carefully walking towards the door leaving the Highwayman behind her to ruminate on her words.

Neither one noticed the cloaked figure entering silently through a side door and slipping furtively into the brothel attached to the tavern.

 _The Abbey…_

"What troubles you my son?" The old Abbot asked the man in front of him as the two of them sat in the Abbey's private confessional, the dim light of a candle flickering softly between them, casting them both in shadow.

"I'm...I'm afraid Father." The man confessed quietly in shame.

"Tis no sin to fear my son." The Abbot replied gently. "Respectful fear of the Light is the beginning of wisdom and there are many things in this world we are right to fear. The people here know this all too well."

The man nodded. "I know. I know it is...practical that I should fear the darkness here for to not fear it is foolish. And yet...I have led men into such battles before...slain the enemies of the Light without compunction and yet…" He trailed off, sighing quietly. "Here…"

"Have you ever stood before such a place of evil as this?" The Abbot whispered intently.

The man paused for a moment before shaking his head.

"And therein lies the root." The Abbot replied softly. "You know what evil lurks in the hearts of men and you have fought it well, but the pure evil...the unnaturalness of this place...it is not found in the wholesome places of the world where normal men tread. You have fought battles on the outskirts but now you take the battle to the enemy's stronghold. It is a daunting prospect."

"They look to me to be unflinching in the face of such terrors...as if it does not affect me." The man sighed quietly. "But I do not know whether I can be that for them."

"You are not made of stone my son and they do not expect perfection from you." The Abbot assured him gently. "You are the bulwark of their strength, yes, but you are not the unfeeling wall that absorbs all the blows without flinching. Let them see when you are weak so that they in turn may strengthen you. Let them see that you are a man. You will not fail them by being human, but you may fail them by trying to be more than human." He cautioned. "In such a place as this it is only proper that you should be afraid. Use that fear to arm yourself with caution and proceed with care that you and the others may emerge victorious. That is a sign of a good leader and that is what they will need."

"Thank you Father." He said quietly.

"Go in peace, my son." The Abbot replied softly as the other man stood and left.

* * *

 _1 week after the first incursion…_

"Gerri is back on her feet and I am prepared." Reynauld told Charles as the pair of them made their way to the edge of town where the carriage was due to arrive. "You saw the Chapter Master's missive?"

Charles nodded. "I did indeed. I was pleasantly surprised to find that we could sell most of what you recovered. The crests not so much perhaps since the family emblem is still considered taboo in most places but we can use those to enhance the look of the various buildings along with some of the less expensive paintings and busts. Some real estate agents in London are showing interest in some of the property deeds you found as well. They will take a little longer to sell but the price should be more than enough to offset the delay. Do you know anything about these new arrivals?"

Reynauld shook his head. "Hannah mentioned that she had sent a message to a colleague to fill in for her while she was recovering. Let us hope she will prove an able replacement for the time being."

"Indeed. Apparently the other is someone the Chapter Master knows personally but he was rather cryptic in the details." Charles mentioned as they neared the carriage garage. "Considering the man's penchant for straightforwardness that does not bode well."

A short time later they could heard the rattle of the carriage along the road. They watched as it clattered up to the town's edge and slowed to a stop with Williams in the driver's bench. Grinning at them in his usual unhinged fashion he leaped down and bowed to the two of them.

"Good afternoon mi'Lord, Master Winters! A fine day it is, yes! So pretty and blue the sky!"

"It is indeed Williams." Charles smiled, slowly getting used to the man's harmless brand of insanity. "These are the new arrivals, I take it?"

"Oh yes Sir! Yes! Another beaky lady and a man in a mask of metal! Very strange, very odd, even for here!" He exclaimed before walking over to the carriage and opening the door with a short bow to the occupants.

The figure that first emerged from the carriage was similar in dress to Bellecoat except her heavy over-robe was a dark brown instead of green and she did not wear her signature mask upon her face. The woman's brown hair was straight and hung about her shoulders, her blue eyes cautious as she looked about, her face somewhat softer than Bellecoat's hard visage. In her hand she carried a small satchel of supplies. The person behind her looked rather more strange. Dressed almost entirely in bronze-colored armor, the few places that were not covered were swathed in bandages. Around the person's head and shoulders sat a ragged white hood and their face was covered entirely by a metal mask of bronze with slits for the eyes and mouth. A pouch hung at the figure's belt and a large two-handed sword was strapped to its back.

"Greetings." The woman said with a incline of her head. "Francine Dyella at your service. Hannah Bellecoat said you would be expecting my arrival?" She asked.

Charles nodded. "Welcome Ms. Dyella. I'm glad you could join us. Who is your travelling companion?"

"If it pleases you I'd rather he explain himself." The woman replied nervously. "Where can I find Hannah?"

"I believe she is at the tavern at the moment." Charles replied. "Williams can escort you."

"Oh...umm...thank you." The Plague Doctore replied insincerely, looking over at Williams distrustfully.

"Fear not Madam! Williams has brought you this far, he will not let you slip and fall in the mud!" Williams exclaimed cheerfully with a toothy grin.

"Williams is a bit odd but he is harmless and quite helpful." Charles assured her quietly. "You will come to no harm from him."

Nodding in resignation Dyella made her way over to the wildly whiskered man before being ushered away, leaving the two of them to greet the other arrival.

"The beaked lady will be so happy to have a friend here!" William told her enthusiastically. "Oh yes! So cold, she is! So stern! A friendly face will warm her like a fire! Yes yes!"

Still keeping a wary eye on the man Francine couldn't help but smile a bit. "You obviously don't know Hannah very well then. She's like that even when she's with…'friends'."

"Oh! What a pity!" Williams exclaimed sadly. "Williams was so hoping beaky lady would be nicer! More pleasant! Smart she is, oh yes! Very very brainy! But...terrible bedside manner." He confided in Dyella with a confidential murmur.

"That's Hannah alright." The woman said with a sigh. "Unfortunately she's been in some of the worst areas of the world for a long time. I'm afraid it's made her rather closed off. I suppose one has to when confronted with such suffering all the time. Tend to make one a bit mad I suppose, if one doesn't."

"Oh being mad isn't bad!" Williams exclaimed with a toothy smile. "Not bad not bad not so sad! Hehehehe!" He giggled. "Fun! Fun it can be, yes!"

"Umm...I'll take your word for it." Dyella muttered quietly, moving a bit further away from the unhinged Caretaker as they entered the tavern.

"Beaky lady!" Williams called out loudly. "Beaky lady! A visitor, a friend you have come calling! Yes!"

"Oh do shut up you moronic man-child!" Bellecoat snapped from the top of the stairs. "I've had enough of your insane rambling and inane nonsense to last me a lifetime!"

Williams giggled at this. "Oh beaky lady has such a way with words! Hehehe! Needs some fun, some teasing in her life she does! Poor Williams tries to provide when he can to make her smile. Williams will leave you two alone to talk, yes! So much to talk about!"

Waving happily Williams departed without another word leaving Bellecoat to glare after him as she hobbled down the stairs. Setting her satchel on the floor Dyella moved to help her only to have Hannah wave her away.

"Don't you dare start fussing over me, I'll be fine!" She snapped. "If I was in serious pain I would hardly be limping down these stairs! It's my damn back that's the problem."

Dyella frowned in annoyance at this, pouting her lips a bit. "Well hello to you too Hannah. I won't ask if you should be moving about like this with back problems because you obviously think you're well enough to do so."

"Of course I am." Hannah replied testily as she reached the bottom stair. "I just can't move very quickly yet. No reason not to stretch those muscles a bit though, keep them limber. The last thing I want is to have muscles so stiff I can't move." She said with a sigh before smirking slightly at Dyella.

"Well, since you're here and in good spirits I assume everything is well with you?"

Dyella let out a put out sigh at this. "I suppose that will do for a 'hello'. And yes everything is going well enough. What in the world have you gotten yourself into here?" She asked in quiet astonishment.

Bellecoat snorted at this. "You wouldn't believe me but I'll try and convince you anyway. Since it's a long tale how about a meal to go with it?"

"Now you're talking." Dyella smiled.

* * *

Charles watched the Caretaker and Francine depart for the tavern before he turned back to see the other occupant of the carriage walk towards them.

"Jonas De Paar." The man stated simply, his voice echoing oddly beneath the mask.

"If I may…" Charles began.

"I wear these bandages and this mask out of necessity." The man stated, anticipating his question. "I have found that my skin is not pleasant to look upon and the bandages are for protection."

"Protection from what precisely?" Charles asked cautiously.

"My curse." The man replied flatly. "I am a leper."

Charles gasped softly as Reynauld took an instinctive step back before catching himself and grimacing slightly. "My apologies sir. It was not my intention to insult you."

"I understand. Indeed you are more gracious than most." De Paar stated. "I have been forced to live with my condition for many years and so I know how best to protect others as well as myself."

"Reynauld Winters." The Crusader said, stretching out his hand carefully.

The man looked at Reynauld's hand for a moment before clasping it with his own gloved hand. "Jonas."

"It cannot be an easy life." Charles murmured sympathetically.

"I have no need of your pity though I appreciate your attempt at kindness." The man replied. "I was forced to come to terms with my lot in life long ago. If you would be so kind as to direct me where I might unpack my belongings?" He asked, pulling down two cases from the top of the carriage.

"Oh yes, this way." Charles indicated.

The three of them walked the short distance to the tavern where they introduced him to the tavern master, though they carefully left the matter of his leprosy out of the introduction. As De Paar headed upstairs Charles turned to Reynauld.

"Gather the others together." He instructed him. "Something tells me we will need to get some concerns out of the way before we introduce De Paar to everyone."

"Sadly I must agree." The Crusader replied as the pair left the tavern.

"Have you ever met such a person before?" Charles asked.

Reynauld shook his head. "I have not. I have heard of such cases of course but they are rare and usually considered outsiders, banished to the edges of society or exiled entirely."

"Unjustly?" Charles asked. "I do worry he could make someone sick accidentally." He suggested, apprehensively glancing back at the tavern.

"If a Plague Doctor like Dyella was willing to get within a few feet of him for the entire ride here then I doubt his condition is something to worry about." Reynauld said as they made their way back to Charles's office. "He obviously has it well under control."

 _Later…_

"Of course he does." Bellecoat remarked negligently as the group of five sat in the lounge next to Charles's office that evening. "You people obviously know nothing about the disease."

"Then why don't you enlighten us Ms. Bellecoat." Charles suggested gently.

"Leprosy is, at its root, a skin disease caused by bacteria." She explained patiently. "It creates pustules and patches of scaly skin on various parts of the body but unless you're rubbing yourself all over the man's skin and thus rubbing the bacteria all over yourself you're unlikely to contract the disease. In fact, most people are actually immune to the bacteria, it's the unfortunate ones who aren't that contract it. Sadly there's no cure or treatment for the disease that I know of."

"Is it painful for him?" Charles asked curiously.

"Ironically it's the lack of pain that is the main problem." Bellecoat replied. "The disease also impacts the nerves close to the skin and can deaden them. The man might slice his hand with a blade and not realize he's been cut until he happens to look at it and see it bleeding. Naturally this can cause all sorts of possibilities for more dangerous infections."

"So all that armor and coverings…" Reynauld began.

"Are most likely a way to keep from injuring himself accidentally." Bellecoat confirmed. "No doubt it's to keep people from fleeing in terror of him as well," she said with a roll of her eyes, "but De Paar obviously takes care of himself and has done very well so far."

"I don't suppose your healing abilities would be able to help him?" Reynauld asked Gerri curiously.

The woman shrugged helplessly. "I would be very surprised if he has not attempted that route already. And in any case the powers granted to me by the Light are not that powerful. I could not hope to heal him as I am now."

"What about your colleague?" Gerri asked, turning to Bellecoat curiously.

"She's competent enough and has been in a few of the nastier places in the world, as have I." Bellecoat replied. "She may not be as confident as I am regarding combat but she'll learn quickly enough. I've supplied her with some of my plague grenades and shared my recipe with her in case I should no longer be able to continue on here."

"Do you think that likely?" Charles asked in concern.

"No, but in our line of work paranoia keeps you alive so I'm taking no chances." She replied sharply. "I should be up and about in another week or so."

"Bloody leg's still killin' me." Dismas grumbled as he rubbed it ruefully. "Prob'ly another week for me too."

Charles nodded. "Then does anyone have any objections to their aid?"

The rest shook their heads.

"Very well. Reynauld, I want you, Gerri, Francine, and Jonas to embark tomorrow. Let us hope this time things go smoother." He said with a sigh.


	7. Once More Into the Breach

Chapter 6: Once More Into the Breach

Reynauld and Gerri made their way towards the run down cathedral once again with the afternoon sun high in the sky, this time with Jonas and Francine behind them.

"How good are you at using that blade?" Reynauld asked the leperos man.

"Well enough." He replied. "I would hardly have made the trip here if I didn't feel I was prepared for the task ahead."

Reynauld nodded. He was still concerned that the man might be in over his head but it was a risk they had to take. Questioning his abilities further would only frustrate De Paar and he had no desire to make the armored warrior doubt himself at this juncture.

"Might I ask how you and Bellecoat know each other?" Reynauld asked, turning to Francine.

"We've worked together on and off for the last fifteen years or so." The woman replied offhandedly. "Any time there's an outbreak of disease in a town or some calamity a bunch of us get an urgent summons to get there with all speed and do what we can. You bump into the same people enough and you start talking. Not that Hannah was all rainbows and sunshine back then but at least you could get her to laugh." She said, pursing her lips.

"Dare I ask what it was like, working in such places." Jonas asked cautiously.

"It's the same thing every time." Dyella replied with a hint of sadness. "Most of the time you can help the people who aren't seriously infected but for those who are too far gone all you can do is try to keep them comfortable until they die. Hannah has a terrible bedside manner but she's a rather brilliant chemist. I've seen her work miracles using tailored analgesics. She may seem cold-hearted but deep down she cares for them deeply."

"How can you tell?" Gerri asked a bit derisively.

"She's still doing it." Francine replied, giving the Vestal a light glare. "She wouldn't put herself in harm's way, work as hard as she does, if she didn't care. I remember there was an outbreak in this one town." She recalled, getting a distant look in her eyes.

"Other Plague Doctors were already working there, trying to find a cure but it was some strange variant strain they'd never seen before. Hannah moved in like a whirlwind, collected all their notes and observations, everything they knew about it so far, and went right to work. She was up for three days and nights without a break in that makeshift lab mixing chemicals and testing them on samples she'd gotten from the afflicted. I tried to get her to sleep but she just shrugged me off saying she couldn't sleep while people were dying of this rot. Finally, on the fourth morning she emerged from the small house, dead tired and staggering from exhaustion but she had this smile on her face…"

"She saved everyone that was still alive in that town." Dyella said in quiet admiration. "I'd never seen anything like it. The others were all flabbergasted of course." She said with a quiet giggle. "These were some of the best men in their field and to have been upstaged by a woman, well…let's just say there were a lot of bruised egos that day." She smirked.

She laughed again, recalling the looks on the various Doctors' faces before looking at Gerri confidently. "That's how I know she still cares, no matter how she acts on the outside."

"It seems we have misjudged Ms. Bellecoat." Reynauld suggested with quiet regret.

Dyella smiled. "Don't start acting all apologetic around her, she won't appreciate it. As long as you get the job done, be professional, and don't waste her time, that's good enough for her."

"It seems we have arrived." Jonas remarked, looking up at the tall, stern walls of the cathedral. "You say you found undead here?"

Gerri nodded. "Not only undead but spiders as large as dogs. Nasty things!"

"The first level should still be clear." Reynauld said. "Let us make our way to the floor below. Take care as we may find ourselves in the catacombs."

"Lovely." Gerri remarked dryly. "Let's hope undead aren't fond of migrating or we might run into as many as we did the first time."

The group made their way into the darkness of the interior of the cathedral, immediately lighting one of their torches. Making their way carefully through the abandoned hallways and oppressive rooms of the main floor they soon made their way to the basement level, the hallway being more decomposed and filled on each side with ancient caskets, many of them broken.

Jonas made his way to one of the disturbed coffins, running a gloved finger along the burst lid. "Grave robbers? Or something worse?" He asked the others as he looked back.

"If the coffin is empty we know where the undead are coming from at least." Gerri suggested darkly.

The armored man carefully peaked over the box before grimacing. "Empty."

"Wonderful." Gerri sighed, making Dyella blanch slightly as the reality of their situation began to finally sink in.

Swallowing softly the woman gathered up her courage and followed the Crusader down the long corridor before entering the next chamber.

Before them stood three undead, two skeletal warriors bearing clubs and a courtier. All of them hissed furiously at being intruded upon.

"I pray thee tell me why you leave your rest and sneer at us so!" Jonas called out to them as he pulled his sword from his scabbard.

"I believe we can handle this." Reynauld remarked with cold confidence as he ran forward with a yell, catching the creatures flat-footed. Swinging his sword in a powerful arc, bone shards flew as the pair of skeletons were immediately decapitated, their heads flying across the room as their bodies collapsed to the ground, making the courtier race swiftly around the furious warrior. As it drew closer to Gerri the creature flung the foul contents of its goblet onto the Healer, the potent mixture scalding her robes and arms as its hallucinogenic properties began to distort her senses.

"Gerri!" Francine shouted in alarm before hastily throwing one of the plague grenades Hannah had given to her. The throw went wide with the orb sailing over the skeleton's capped head and smashing uselessly against the floor nearby. Gritting her teeth Gerri threw her hand forward.

"Let Light's Judgment fall upon you!" She shouted and a blaze of golden light much stronger than normal shot from her palm, slamming into the creature's ribcage. The courtier screeched as Gerri felt some of the power flow over her body, healing her of the damage the goblet's contents had done as the power turned the skeleton to ash.

The threats dispatched Reynauld walked over to examine the ash left behind. "Most impressive Gerri." The man said approvingly. "Your power grows."

The Vestal smiled humbly. "Say rather that the Light approves of my actions and allows more of its power to flow through me. I am but a vessel for it."

Reynauld nodded. "You speak truly. Come." The Crusader said to the others, gesturing for them to follow him.

They headed down casket-lined corridors, the light of the torches making the shadows dance disturbingly, before they came to an eerily familiar sight.

"An iron maiden in the depths of a death hall?" De Paar asked in mild confusion. "Odd place for it." He suggested as he moved to examine it.

"Jonas I would not-" Reynauld began uneasily.

Heeding his warning too late the leper found himself slammed into the device as it's spiked front clanged shut on him.

"Not again!" Reynauld exclaimed as a muffled yell came from within the device.

"What horrid madness is this?!" Jonas cried, his words warped by the dual effect of his mask and the maiden itself. "Release me! I do not wish to be embraced by your cold iron arms!"

"Hold on Jonas!" Reynauld called to him before examining the locking mechanism and grimacing. "Jammed, just like before!" He muttered in frustration before looking over at the Plague Doctor. "Hannah was able to use acid to eat through the lock when this same fate befell Dismas. Can you do the same?"

Francine nodded. "Thankfully she gave me some of hers before we left. I hope it will be enough."

Taking a stoppered phial from a pouch she carefully dripped some of the greenish liquid into the lock. Shortly thereafter the lock disengaged with a _pop_ and Reynauld was able to free the bandaged man.

"Are you alright?" Reynauld asked.

"I...will be fine." Jonas replied, his voice rather shaky. "Your Chapter Master said nothing about possessed maidens!"

"It's a...relatively new phenomena we've encountered." Gerri hedged.

Even with the metal mask hiding his face Reynauld could tell the man was unimpressed with the explanation.

"If I didn't know better I'd swear we were being toyed with." Reynauld remarked in frustration, giving the offending torture device a solid kick with his metal boot, making it shake with a clatter. "Come on."

Taking a left turn at a bend in the hallway they entered a room with some old tables and chairs with a small bookshelf in the corner.

"Welcome." A cold baritone voice said from the shadows.

A moment later two figures emerged, a man and a woman. Both were muscular and dressed in sleeveless black robes accented with slim golden curls and a wide belt with a circular brass clasp. Upon their heads were helmets of brass in the shape of the upper half of a human skull adorned with a spoked halo. Upon the man's wrists were a pair of long brass-colored double-bladed hand claws with the woman holding a twisted scepter of dark wood. The door at the other end of the room opened and a pair of undead entered, one a skeletal warrior holding a sword and the other dressed in the finery of a courtier.

"Are you the ones who have dared wake the dead from their rest?" Reynauld challenged.

"You flatter us." The woman replied in a cool, haughty voice. "We are but humble servants. You, however, will not leave this room alive!" She exclaimed.

"Do you not know who I am?" De Paar asked chillingly, drawing a large, wedge-shaped executioner's blade from the scabbard across his back.

"I am YOUR EXECUTIONER!" He shouted, racing forward as he swung the massive blade upward before slamming it downward in a wide slash. The pair were knocked backwards, the blade slicing through their robes and skin before _clanging_ against the stone floor with a loud ringing tone, the edge coated in ruby liquid. Taking advantage of the moment Reynauld ran forward with his own battle cry, stabbing the man in the chest. As the dark figure coughed up blood the courtier ran towards Gerri, catching her full in the face with the foul liquid. The Vestal cried out as her senses spun, the hallucinations she had suffered before as nothing compared to what she currently beheld. Screams of the damned echoed in her ears as the shadows became wraith-like monsters of chilling and terrible portent. Her allies' faces became gaunt and haunted with the whites of their eyes shining in the torchlight as the creature before her cackled with unholy mirth, its eye sockets blazing with demonic light.

Panting in fear Gerri shut her eyes before thrusting her hand forward, silently willing the Light to aid her. Power shot from her hand which blasted the creature apart with a horrid scream. Nearby, Reynauld shattered the skull of the sword-swinging skeleton with a mighty blow. Seeing an opportunity to prove herself Dyella ran towards the female acolyte.

"Feel the power of my master!" The woman called out, raising the scepter above her head as dark power began to curl about it.

"Not today!" The Plague Doctor cried as she leaped forward, pulling a dagger from her sleeve and stabbing it into the woman's chest, piercing her heart. The woman gasped before slowly collapsing to the floor, the scepter clattering to the ground.

"Is everyone alright?" Reynauld asked as he looked about.

"The Vestal isn't well, I fear." Jonas said, noticing the pallid and sweating woman.

Francine quickly moved to aid her. "Are you injured? What happened?" She asked quickly.

"G-goblet." Gerri whispered in a choked voice before clenching her eyes shut.

Francine quickly swept it up off the floor and sniffed at it before wrinkling her nose. "Whatever this concoction is, it's potent stuff." Dipping her gloved finger in the dregs at the bottom of the cup she dabbed a bit of it on her tongue before quickly spitting it out.

"Poison?" Reynauld asked worriedly.

"No, Salvia. Among other things, anyway." The woman remarked gruffly.

"What is Salvia?" Jonas asked.

"It's a cousin of the mint plant found in various places of the world." The Plague Doctor explained. "It's also an extremely powerful hallucinogenic herb. Come into contact with enough of it and you start losing your mind. I've never encountered a mixture this potent before."

"Will she be alright?" Reynauld asked in concern.

"If we can detoxify her, yes." Dyella replied. "Even at this dose it isn't lethal but she's going to be in for a hell of a time until we can flush it from her body."

"Once we return to town we should be able to aid her better." Reynauld said. "Come on."

"Can you keep going?" Francine asked Gerri carefully as they left the room

"I-I-know whats-s-s hap-p-ening…" Gerri said in a shuddering voice. "I-it's hard...b-but I can k-keep going."

Francine nodded, keeping an arm around the shaking Vestal as they pushed forward.

Suddenly the Plague Doctor heard an ominous _click_ as the stone shifted beneath her boot.

On instinct she shoved Gerri away before trying to leap back herself. Suddenly sharp, rusty spikes erupted from the sandy floor beneath her stabbing into her leg before retracting forcefully. The woman cried out from the pain as she gripped her thigh, putting pressure on the wound while Gerri stood there in shock at what had occurred.

"Y-you s-s-aved me!" She gasped before fumbling for a roll of bandages in her pack and handing them to the bleeding woman.

"I...couldn't do...erk!...otherwise." She grunted as she rolled the cloth around her thigh before jerking it tight and tying it off.

"Will you be alright?" Reynauld asked in concern.

"Thankfully I just got caught by one of the spikes on the outside and it didn't hit anything vital." The Plague Doctor panted. "If I'd been standing in the middle of it…" She shuddered for a moment at the thought of being impaled in multiple places before nodding to the others. "I can still walk."

"Who in the world builds a spiked trap in a catacomb?" De Paar asked querulously.

"Someone who does not wish to be disturbed, obviously." Reynauld replied grimly before stepping forward.

Suddenly he felt the stone beneath his boot shift as well.

Unable to move in time due to his armor, spikes erupted from the floor many of them screeching along the metal shin guards the man wore while several were able to piece the greaves surrounding his calves and thighs, making the man stagger as he cried out, the sharp metal cutting open his skin in various places. Gerri ran forward as the spikes retracted, the Crusader quickly removing his leg armor, allowing her to bandage him with shaking hands.

"Damn it all!" He swore through gritted teeth. "We'll be pincushions at this rate!"

"A hard lesson, paid for in blood and pain." Jonas suggested ruefully. "We shall have to be far more careful traversing this place."

Reynauld grunted in agreement as he helped the shaky healer tie off the the last of the bandages.

"You remind me of myself in the morning with all that wrapping." De Paar remarked laconically.

Reynauld turned to look at the man and the leper could almost see the glare coming from within the helmet. Fortunately his own mask allowed him an unmatched poker face.

Fuming, Reynauld checked Gerri's work one last time before refastening his armor plating. He waved a hand, indicating the rest follow him, as he began hobbling forward.

"Can you keep going?" Francine asked him.

"I refuse to let a few jabs to my legs get in the way of fulfilling my duty." The man grunted. "Give me a few moments and I will be fine."

Nodding uncertainly the Plague Doctor took a few steps back, giving the man his privacy. Gritting his teeth against the pain and vowing silently to walk it off he forced himself to move down the corridor, his eyes peeled for any more traps as Jonas lit another torch to keep the darkness at bay. At the end of the corridor sat a side room which they entered to find thankfully empty. The room was fairly small and filled with shelves of various tomes and journals with papers cluttering the desks.

"A records room?" De Paar asked idly as they looked about.

"P-probably." Gerri replied, her vision swimming with dark, shifting shadows that seemed to reach out to her malevolently near the light of the torch. "O-obituar-ries and n-next of k-kin."

"No doubt records the Bishop kept regarding expenses, who served here, and so on." Francine suggested. "Not surprising. No doubt it's location helped keep most away from their private business, not wanting to visit with the dead, after all." She smirked.

As the others talked and looked about the room for anything interesting Reynauld found himself facing a nearby bookshelf filled with books and papers. Though there was nothing unusual about it the man found himself drawn to them, curious to see what secrets they might reveal. Walking over to the stacks he began running his gloved hand lightly along the tops of the books until he paused at a particularly thick tome made of black leather. Before he realized it he had slid the book from its resting place and into his hands, the face and spine of it blank. Frowning in puzzlement as well as a rather unusual amount of curiosity, he began to open the pages. The book was seemingly filled with a foreign language written in spidery script with various diagrams and what appeared to be mathematical formulae. Suddenly the sound of whispers filled his ears as the indecipherable language written on the pages began to squirm and move about as if alive. He felt a gnawing at the front of his mind as he stared in disbelief while out of the corner of his eye he saw the light of the torch beginning to fade. Tendrils of shadow began to creep from the darkened corners of the room towards him and the whispers took on a ravenous tone. The squiggles and marks began to conform into words that did not make sense to him yet still filled him with terrible dread. The realization came from the most instinctive, primal portions of his mind that if he were able to read the words and understand their import he would shatter from the horrific knowledge sealed within them. Reynauld began to shiver, his hands clutching the book, unable to put it down as his eyes began to water, his body instinctively blurring the words as they became more and more clear to him, his mind recoiling from the horrors he knew he was seconds from experiencing as the shadows grew ever closer to ensnaring him in their clutches. Finally with a supreme effort of will he forced his body to respond to his mental commands, throwing the book aside to the floor with a loud _thump_. Panting quietly and shaking in his armor the whispering ceased with an almost resentful tone, the book seemingly denied its prey. The shadows receded as the light of the torch brightened once more. The Crusader closed his eyes, whispering a silent prayer to the Light for strength as the squirming sigils he had seen continued to move within his mind's eye before slowly fading from recollection.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder Reynauld jerked in surprise, his eyes snapping open to see Jonas.

"What ails you Sir Winters?" He asked carefully with his odd echo-y voice.

"I…" He paused for a moment to collect himself. "The book's passages were rather...unsettling."

De Paar looked at the fallen book before looking back at the shaken Crusader. "Unsettling indeed to make a man like yourself be rid of it in such a fashion."

"Do not look at it. Do not even touch it!" Reynauld insisted with quiet ferocity. "I barely escaped its clutches!"

The leper's eyes widened in shock behind his mask at the man's declaration before looking at the book again cautiously as if it might come to life and bite him.

"Let us not waste time here!" Reynauld called to the others hoarsely. "We move on!"

The others looked at him in surprise as Reynauld quickly exited the room, unwilling to be anywhere near the maddening book as the others filed past it, its pages flipping back and forth in their wake.

Exiting the side room the group continued down the hallway until the came to a pair of double doors. Lighting another torch they entered the room to find it occupied. A man and a woman in identical outfits to the ones they had fought before turned to face them. Behind them a skeletal arbalist in conquistador armor raised its crossbow while another undead clad in plate mail and wielding a large round buckler rushed in front of them to defend them. The still shaken Crusader quickly pulled the scripture from his belt.

"Let the power of the Light be your bane!" He shouted, unrolling the holy text before them. The parchment blazed with golden light as power erupted from it, washing over the armored skeleton and the male cultist. The skeleton screeched as the holy light flooded over it, partially disrupting the foul magics that allowed it to exist while the man cried out in pain, the light physically burning him.

"Stop him!" The man shouted in a rough baritone voice to the skeletons.

Ignoring the disruptive power blazing across its body the armored skeleton rushed forward before rearing back and slamming the shield into the Crusader. Reynauld cried out as the powerful attack made him stumble back, his head swimming from the blow as the light from the scripture faded away, the scroll held limply in his hand.

"Reynauld!" Francine shouted in alarm before hastily throwing a flash bang orb.

The throw went wild with the actinic fireworks created by the smashed orb lighting up the back of the room. A moment later the arbalist took aim and fired a bolt from its crossbow, the stout steel arrow slamming into De Paar's chest, piercing through his chest plate and making him fall to his knees, the man crying out in dismay as he gripped the shaft.

Gerri turned cold as she watched the armored man sink to his knees in pain, the shadows and horrible figures before her eyes cackling and grinning with wicked mirth at his seemingly inevitable demise. Forcing her mind to focus amidst the horrific hallucinogenic visions she cried out to the others in a strident voice.

"WE WILL NOT FALL HERE TO THESE WRETCHES!" She shouted. "REMEMBER THAT THE LIGHT PROTECTS US AND IS GREATER THAN ANY EVIL! KILL THESE ABERRATIONS!"

Uplifted by her words, Jonas attempted to pull himself together as Gerri ran over to him, the Vestal placing her hand against his shoulder.

"Pull out the bolt when I say!" She ordered him.

Gripping the spike he nodded.

"Let the Light's healing flow through me!" She cried with supreme confidence.

A blaze of holy light engulfed her before pouring into the wounded man.

"Now!" She commanded.

Jonas jerked the bolt free with a cry as the wound flooded with golden light before being healed. Panting in relief and turned to look at the round-faced woman.

"Thank you!" He said fervently.

Gerri smiled kindly at him. "I could not do otherwise. Now up, quickly!" She instructed him. "You have monsters to kill!"

"As my lady commands!" He said with humor in his voice as he got to his feet.

At the same time the Plague Doctor found herself on the receiving end of the cultist's razor sharp claws as the burly man charged at her with a roar. Francine stumbled back, attempting to put distance between herself and the enraged man but his long blades struck true, slashing open the front of her robes and slashing across her stomach leaving two ragged and bloody lines in her skin.

With a furious yell Jonas ran towards the cultist, swinging his massive blade. Before the man could turn the weapon slammed into his side with tremendous force slicing deep into his body, piercing his lung and liver. The cultist howled as the warrior ripped the blade free sending blood gushing from his side, the man staggering back as he attempted to stem the crimson tide. Francine quickly pulled free a bandage and wrapped it several times around her stomach to seal off the wounds while Jonas helped steady her. Furious at her inability to properly defend herself she snatched a plague grenade from her belt and threw it angrily towards the other attackers. Her shot flew true with the orb smashing against the female acolyte, splashing both her and the undead arbalist as she attempted to cast dark magic against them. The woman screamed as the liquified bacteria began to eat away at her flesh with voracious hunger while the crossbow fell from the creature's hands, the sinews that allows its hands to function dissolved almost immediately. Nearby Reynauld found himself on the receiving end of another of the armored skeleton's shield bash. Partially deflecting the blow with his gauntlet Reynauld ripped his sword free from its scabbard.

"Light take you, you miserable pile of bones!" He shouted as he grabbed the edge of the creature's shield, yanking it to the side as he swung his blade in a powerful overhead slash. The blade bit deep into the monster's head through its rounded helm, shattering the skull into fragments and causing the former front liner to collapse to the ground with a crash of metal.

Gerri quickly ran to Francine, resting her hands against her torn stomach as she prayed. Light blossomed from her hand as the internal damage was quickly healed though the skin still remained raw and puckered. Jonas turned to look at the remaining combatants still standing, his face set with a grim fury beneath the brass plating. Readying his blade he charged forward once again with a loud cry, slashing at the two of them as the ailing woman desperately raised her rod to cast a spell. The blade sheared through dark wood, flesh, and bone, sending the top half of the rod flying along with a pair of heads, one belonging to a monster and the other a woman who was equally monstrous. The bodies toppled to the floor, their heads bouncing away into the far shadows of the room.

With the threats dispatched everyone took a moment to breathe.

"Everyone alright?" Reynauld asked.

"I am, thanks to this lovely lady." The leper stated with a gesture to Gerri who blushed.

"I owe her my thanks as well." Francine admitted tiredly. "What of you?"

Reynauld nodded. "My legs ache fiercely but I can still move."

Gerri walked over to the large doorway to the end of the room and peered into it. "Seems to be a large set of stairs here, going down to the next level." She remarked.

"I would not have us venture further until we are healed." Reynauld stated. "We have had too many close calls already."

"I only hope this venture was worth it." De Paar remarked tirely. "I would hate to have come all this way for nothing."

"I don't think we have to worry about that." The Plague Doctor remarked with quiet relish as she found herself bending over a large chest in one corner of the room.

From within shone the glitter of gold and gems, the avarice in the woman's dark eyes hidden behind her beaked mask.

* * *

A\N: Sorry for the long wait, hopefully future chapters will come more quickly. I realize there are no catacomb backgrounds in the game but I felt it appropriate to add them.


	8. Recuperation and Rebuilding

Chapter 7: Recuperation and Rebuilding

The group had slowly made their way back through the upper levels of the cathedral before limping back down the trail to the town where they could finally rest and heal. With Reynauld's legs worsened due to aggravating the injuries he had suffered Charles decided to speak with all of them in what was becoming the convalescence room rather than making the man walk further than he had to.

"You believe this to be the work of cultists?" The slim man mused with a considering frown on his face as he rested his chin on his clasped hands.

"That is what they seemed to be, given their dress and how they spoke." Reynauld replied as Williams helped to dress his legs with new poultices and bandages, the man divested of his armor and wearing a simple tunic and short pants. "Their outfits were elaborate and ritualistic. These were not clothes worn by mercenaries."

"Are ye' sure about that?" Dismas asked from his place against the wall where he was leaning with his arms crossed, his own legs finally healed of their injuries. "I seen some strange kit in me day."

Gerri dug around in her pack before pulling out one of the haloed half-skull masks one of the cultists had worn and tossed it to him without a word. The man caught the blood-stained mask deftly with a hand before peering at it.

"Wild-lookin' thing, ain't it?" He mused before tossing it back to her. "Gotta say, never seen the like."

"May I?" Hannah asked, sitting near Francine.

Gerri handed the mask to her and the woman examined it for a moment with a critical eye.

"It reminds me of something a tribal shaman might wear in darker Africa." Hannah remarked curiously before handing it back to Gerri. "You often find such eccentricities there. Perhaps that is where they came from." She suggested as she examined Francine's scarred stomach, prodding it carefully to check for any lingering internal damage.

"With skin as light as mine?" Reynauld asked mildly.

Hannah glanced over at him with an inquisitive eyebrow before turning back to her patient with a thoughtful frown. "Well that does make it less likely I agree, but it's still a viable explanation."

"We managed to find the stairway leading to the next level down." Gerri informed Charles. "It should be easy enough to find once you pass through the catacombs."

Charles sat back at this, a puzzled expression on his face. "Stairway? There is no stairway beyond the catacombs that I know of."

The silence in the room was palpable for a moment as everyone looked at each other.

"Sounds like the old man did some construction while you was away." Dismas said.

"The letter did mention a lot of excavation during his search." Charles admitted with a sigh. "I suppose we will have to check that area as well and see just how far this rabbit hole goes."

"There's one thing more…" Reynauld remarked, his voice quietly reserved.

The others looked at him as the man pondered the import of the information he was about to give them and how it might reflect on him as a man and a leader. Sighing he looked up at Charles ruefully.

"While we were in the catacomb's record room I discovered a book amidst the volumes. It had a...singular and distressing power about it. When I held it...it's as if the thing was pure malevolence. I could hear it whispering to me and the words on the page moved as if alive. The horror I felt as I held it was unlike anything I have ever known. It sounds absurd I know…" He trailed off, thumping his fist lightly against the arm of the chair he was sitting in as he turned his head to avoid their gazes, regretting that he had spoken as he was certain the others would see him as weak or cowardly. Already he could hear Dismas's voice mocking him.

 _Undone by a bloody book! What th' sodding 'ell kind of man shrinks back from a bloody book?_

Pursing his lips ruefully he looked up to see the others looking at him seriously or at least thoughtfully in consideration.

"You believe me then?" He asked cautiously.

"I've no reason to doubt you Sir Winters." Charles confirmed quietly. "Already you have proven to me that you are a stalwart and serious man who is not given to flights of fancy. Given the things we have encountered so far I would be foolish to call your observations into question."

Charles looked around at the others. "It seems we are dealing with more arcane matters than I expected. First undead, now blasphemous books. We may have to bring in a specialist in these matters."

The others nodded thoughtfully as they pondered this before Hannah spoke up. "I'm passing familiar with a professor of Occult Studies at Oxford. Ran into him a few times in the past. He seemed quite the knowledgeable fellow when I spoke with him and he appeared to have a decent head on his shoulders, if a bit odd at times. Perhaps I should send him a missive?"

Charles nodded. "Please do so. The more help we can get the better. I'll also see if the Chapter Master has any other members of his Order or other trustworthy people he can send our way. In the meantime I have some good news. I was able to convince the former guild master who lived here years ago to return and help us. He's a military man of some reputation who has had experience training men for battle and he is proficient in many different types of weapons."

"I'm already a dead shot with me pistol, thanks." Dismas remarked.

"Please, there's always ways you can improve yourself." Hannah retorted offhandedly. "I'll be the first to admit I could use some practice with knowing when and where to attack, not to mention being aware of my surroundings in a fight. My back is a testament to that."

"I trust it's doing much better?" Reynauld asked.

Bellecoat nodded. "Much, yes, though I still get bouts of tension and tweaking."

"In other news," Charles continued, "more supplies have come in to help rebuild the town. We have enough material that our Blacksmith is able to start up his forge again."

"Good. We will have need of him soon, I am sure." Jonas remarked. "At the very least I will need to have the bolt hole in my armor repaired." He said, rubbing the circular scar where the bolt had pierced him.

Charles nodded. "Once the forge is reheated we should be able to refine your armor and weapons. Do keep in mind though that it will be an expensive proposition given the materials we will need to have on hand."

"So no gold plate mail is what ye're sayin'." Dismas suggested with a smirk.

Reynauld snorted in amusement. "Not unless you want to have one of those skeletal swordsmen cut through it like butter. Gold is a fairly soft metal you know."

"I doubt my _scalpel_ will need refining but we will see." Hannah remarked.

"I do believe that's a joke, that is." Dismas teased. "Wicked sense 'o humor you 'ave."

"As sharp as my scalpel." The Plague Doctor replied, glancing back at him with a sardonic look and amused twist of her lips.

"I should set up a date between you two." Francine suggested. "That's the first time I've seen her smile in a while. Any man that can do that is a keeper."

"Oh shut it, I'm not _that_ bad off." Bellecoat retorted in exasperation as she finished examining the woman and sat down in one of the other chairs. "You'll live."

"Glad to hear it, Hannah." Francine replied sweetly.

The frosty black-maned woman shook her head in annoyance as Charles stood. "I'll send more of you out in the next few days. In the meantime I would ask that all of you help in getting the guild hall and blacksmith shop ready for use as much as you are able. Hannah, please send your letter to this professor you spoke of."

The woman nodded as Charles left the room.

"If you'll excuse me I would prefer some peace and quiet in my room while I rest." Francine said as she stood and made her way out of the lounge. Walking through the manor house she exited the front door and made her way to the tavern nearby. Nodding to the barkeep she carefully took the stairs up to the second floor and made her way into her room. Locking the door carefully she sat down on the bed before taking a heavily-laden pouch from her belt and opening it before dumping the contents onto the bed. Her eyes glittered with relish at the sight of the crimson and indigo gems that sparkled in the sun from the window. The Plague Doctor licked her lips in excitement at the sight of the wealth before her that she had surreptitiously plucked from the chest in the catacombs before the others had seen.

 _All my life I've had to work my fingers to the bone to get even the smallest trinkets. With these I can finally turn that around! If I play my cards right I'll be rich by the time I leave here! Surely they won't miss a few gems here and there!_

* * *

The next few days passed quickly with everyone pitching in, in their own way, to help repair the guild hall and smithing forge. While Reynauld was not able to do any manual labor due to his healing legs he was able to help direct the efforts of Dismas and Jonas who moved the lumber back and forth as well as the other townsfolk who had come to help with the carpentry. The influx of wealth from the chest in the catacombs provided for a number of improvements that helped make the large hall serviceable again as well as raw materials for the blacksmith who was more than pleased to have his forge relit for the first time in years. Smoke could soon be seen rising from the man's chimney as the red hot furnace was put to work once again. One morning Francine entered Hannah's makeshift apothecary to find the woman packing up provisions in a travel bag. Stopping for a moment in puzzlement to watch her pack she finally spoke.

"Where are you going?"

Hannah glanced back at her lazily. "I've decided to go on a vision quest to gain enlightenment." She deadpanned.

At the other woman's confused look Bellecoat smirked. "I suppose I need to work on my delivery when I tell jokes. I'm actually heading back to London for a few days to pick up supplies."

"Supplies? We manage to get deliveries sent here." Francine suggested, her tone still puzzled.

Hannah straightened, brushing back her long hair. "Do you really want some fool to be carrying large amounts of flesh-eating bacteria here on the back of some rickety wagon?" She asked.

Seeing the taken aback look on the woman's face she nodded. "That's what I thought. I'm running low on the bacteria and other chemicals I need to produce it to make my various orbs. I've already gone through my usual stock of the stuff so I need to get more. That means getting the stuff from my labs, special tanks, lock boxes, a very sturdy conveyance, and possibly some guards. Hence my trip to London."

Francine nodded. "Do you expect to be gone long?"

The other Plague Doctor shrugged. "I'll be back in a week if I'm fortunate."

"Hopefully you won't find the trip back and forth too dull." Francine suggested with a smile.

Bellecoat shook her head. "I shouldn't be. I've had some ideas about creating more potent versions of my plague orbs and restoratives. The trips will give me the peace and quiet I need to write them down more fully and make sure they're workable."

Francine nodded. "Good to hear. Well I'll let you be about it then. I hope everything goes well."

Hannah nodded silently in thanks before turning to her work table nearby and plucking a phial of liquid from it.

"Don't forget to give Boutina her detox." Hannah remarked, handing the stoppered flask to Francine.

"I will, thank you." Francine replied before leaving the shop, allowing her reticent colleague to finish her work in peace.

Walking down the packed dirt road to the nearby tavern Francine nodded at a few of the townspeople before making her way inside, waving to the mustached barkeep before heading up the stairs to Gerri's room. Knocking on the door and receiving a reply she entered to find the woman seated on her bed reading from her holy book, her armor sitting off to the side and her robe open revealing her plain white tunic and brown pants.

"I hope you're feeling better today?" Francine asked.

Looking up Gerri nodded. "Somewhat yes. I still get shudders and I sometimes see things out of the corner of my eye but it's not nearly as bad as it was." She explained, taking the glass phial from the woman and uncorking it.

Francine nodded. "That's good to hear. You're making excellent progress. Nothing else that I should be aware of? Any side effects?" She prompted.

Gerri shook her head. "No, not at all. Tell Hannah she does excellent work." She requested before drinking the contents. "Even if it *cough* does taste like swamp water." She said with a grimace.

Francine laughed lightly at the woman's remark. "Well she doesn't make it for the taste. I've found that the worse the medicine tastes, the better it works."

Gerri momentarily stuck out her tongue in disgust, scraping it with a finger. "If she makes the taste any worse I'll swear it's an immortality potion."

The Plague Doctor laughed at this, shaking her head before bidding Gerri farewell and returning to her own rooms.

* * *

 _Elsewhere..._

The room is covered in cherry wood and soft carpeting. It would be large enough to suit anyone deigning to work in it but the copious amount of display cases, bookshelves, and knick-knacks make the room seem slightly cramped. Upon the shelves sit a myriad series of tomes from modern philosophical treatises penned by the great thinkers of Austria to the most arcane of grimoires that list the true names of ancient Babylonian demons written during the time of the Enlightenment. In one display case an animal skeleton whose skull appears to have three eye sockets peers sightlessly across the room. In the middle of the room sits a large oak desk, well polished and well-used over the many years it has been there. On the corner of the desk sits a bleached human skull, yellowed with age on top of which sits a lit candle of red wax. The man seated behind it slides his tanned, slim fingers along the polished surface of the desk as softly spoken words tumble from his lips. The arcane words invoke powers most men would shrink from ever daring to use if they realized the full import of what they dared to command but to one such as him they are as child's play. The psychic resonances of those who came before him run like faint waves of electrical current from the desk through his fingers, offering faint visions of those who had sat in this same place decades prior and tantalizing bits of forgotten knowledge, passed down in secret. The man's other hand reaches up to stroke the dark mustache that adorns his swarthy Arabian face as he takes in the knowledge the old masters deign to impart to him. Bits and pieces they may be but each one a piece to a puzzle that when completed will yield power and wisdom long sought.

Suddenly, like the string of a violin plucked, he senses an imminent disturbance. Through the mailslot at his door slides a letter that falls to the floor with a soft whisper of sound. Dark eyes open lazily to fix on the intrusion before he stands, adjusting his light brown robe. Walking around the desk, his fingertips sliding along the well worn wood, he pauses to allow the last few bits of insight to be imparted before the invocation fades. Stepping forward he bends down and retrieves the letter from the floor before returning to his desk. Taking hold of the royal Khanjar dagger attached to his belt he deftly slices open the edge and retrieves the contents within. His eyes quickly scan the contents before he pauses in thought, sitting back in his chair as the proposal the letter describes dances across his mind. While he has responsibilities here he has always believed the opportunity for gaining new insights into the nature of the unseen should never be discounted.

A smile graces his lips as he nods his turbaned head.

"I believe I have a journey to make."

* * *

"I fail to see why I should be sent away from the chapter house." The armored man complained snidely as he stood in the Chapter Master's office. "My work in honing the new recruit's skills is keeping me quite busy."

The Chapter Master raised a challenging eyebrow at this. "Are you refusing to obey my instructions Mr. Bertrand?"

"Of course not, sir." The thin-faced man replied blandly with a look of boredom on his face. "You may send me where you see fit. I was simply expressing my opinion on the matter."

"As I have told you before, _on many occasions I might add_ , when I wish to hear your opinion I will ask it of you." The Chapter Master replied curtly. "In this case I believe you would gain some valuable experience in travelling to the Scottish moors to aid in this endeavor. I have already sent several individuals and I wish to include you among their company as well."

The armored Crusader sniffed, stroking his pencil-thin mustache for a moment. "No doubt they have proven incapable of the task and need someone more formidable to assist them. Very well sir, I shall help finish this small matter and return forthwith."

The Chapter Master pursed his lips at the man's declaration but decided not to comment upon it. "This is no simple matter Mr. Bertrand, the reports I have received confirm this. This is a den of true evil and I expect you to prepare yourself as best you are able in light of that fact."

"I'm sure they inflate the severity of it to cover their own weaknesses and incompetence." The man replied disdainfully. "Hence the need for a man of ability and truth such as myself. I begin to see why you are sending me, and rightfully so now that I think upon the matter further. These recruits need some serious lessons in discipline."

The Chapter Master massaged his eyes in frustration at this but continued on. "Be aware there are not merely recruits from the Order there but others whom you will not have jurisdiction over. The local Lord, Charles Ezekiel, is in charge there. I expect you to place yourself under his command and treat him with...the appropriate level of respect."

Bertrand raised a blonde eyebrow at this. "I will certainly show him proper deference sir. I am a Lord myself, my breeding would hardly permit me to do otherwise. Surely you know this sir." The man suggested, feigning an air of puzzlement over barely disguised contempt.

 _Hard to forget when you remind me every chance you get, you stuck-up dandy._ The Chapter Master thought grumpily. "You leave in the morning so pack your things. Lord Ezekiel will bring you up to speed on what your duties will be when you get there."

"As you say sir." Bertrand replied with a cool smile before leaving the man's office.

 _I rue the day your Father sent you here to learn some humility, not to mention some damned common sense._ The Chapter Master grumbled to himself. _You've been boxed about the ears dozens of times and we've yet to beat either of them into you. I think it's time you were force-fed some harsh realities. If this place doesn't sober you up to the fact that the world doesn't revolve around you then nothing will._

* * *

"I'm gonna 'ave me some stories to tell when we get back to London, I guarantee." Dismas remarked as he and several of the others sat at one of the tavern's tables, eating lunch.

"Not that your associates would believe you." Jonas suggested. "Men oft refuse to believe what they perceive to be but flights of fancy."

"Heh, maybe, but I got me the scars to prove it." Cassius replied before taking a drink of his beer.

"We'll also be fairly well-off if the pay is anything to go by." Francine suggested. "Granted this is high risk work but Charles pays well compared to some."

"I'll drink to that." Dismas said with a smile before taking another swig. "The man certainly ain't mean, 'e's done well by us so far."

"A most gracious and humble Lord he is, yes!" Williams agreed as he entered the dining area, his ever-present manic smile on his face. "Such a joy to have the master here!"

"Would you care to join us Williams?" Gerri asked as she wiped her mouth daintily with a napkin.

Dismas glared at her in annoyance but Williams merely smiled even more broadly. "Oh sweet lady! Thank you thank you! Only for a moment or two can I sit. Much to do there is, yes! Always much to do but a small bite with friends...ah such bliss!" He exclaimed happily before plopping down on one of the seats. "Goodwin! Soup if thou wouldst be so kind!" He called out to the barkeep.

"Good thing 'annah ain't here." Dismas remarked with a smirk. "Ice Queen'd prob'ly take offense at being called 'friend'."

Williams guffawed loudly at the man's remark for several moments before calming himself as the others looked on with various degrees of uneasiness at his overlong laughter.

"Such a funny man you are!" Williams announced. "And yet speaking truth too! All good comedy is truth mixed with jest, yes! Beaky lady would not like it, no, but Williams sees through her yes! Strong and firm like stone on the outside but soft within, like sweet pudding!" He giggled as the barkeep brought him a bowl of soup.

Eschewing the use of a spoon the mad caretaker picked up the bowl and began to gulp it down noisily before setting the empty bowl down with a clatter and a satisfied sigh.

"Such good soup Goodwin makes! Filling and delicious! Always good for a hard day's work is Goodwin's soup!" The man declared happily as he wiped his mouth with a sleeve.

"I fear that the soup spoon's purpose has been made meaningless in regards to thee." Jonas suggested.

Williams chuckled at this. "Such pretty words you use! A poet you are surely! No offense to the humble spoon, no! Light forbid! But Williams prefers larger drinks than the spoon could give! More in the mouth means more flavor and faster eating! Always work to be done, no time for slowpokes like the spoon!" He grinned before standing. "More guests we have coming, yes! Meet them with the carriage Williams must! A pleasure it was, indeed!" He said to them before leaving the table and quickly striding out of the door.

The others looked at each other silently for several seconds.

"Crazy old bloke 'e is." Dismas sighed.

"And yet he is no fool." Gerri remarked gently. "He's quite insightful if you listen carefully to him."

Dismas snorted at this. "I did listen. Old codger didn' wanna offend a spoon."

"He also said he prefers larger portions at a time and that he's too busy to take a long time and eat." Gerri replied. "Don't tell me none of you have ever wanted to drink a bowl of soup like that only to be held back by propriety."

"In other words he gets to act like a child because he's seemingly mad." Francine suggested.

"I would say that becoming slightly unhinged has made him more child-like." Gerri corrected. "He said we have some new people arriving shortly. Shall we meet them?"

"Tis the polite thing to do." Jonas remarked. "But I believe I will simply let Lord Ezekiel know. I doubt the new arrivals would want to be subjected to someone like myself."

With that glum statement Jonas stood and made his way across the tavern and out the door.

Francine sighed. "He really is too hard on himself."

"And yet his condition has defined his whole life. I doubt he has had an easy time of it." Gerri suggested. "This is probably the most acceptance he had found from others."

The others nodded, taking time to finish their meals before Francine stood up.

"Well, shall we go see who will be joining us?" She asked them.

"Why not?" Gerri offered.

Standing, the small party left the tavern, thanking Goodwin on the way, and making their way to the garage near the edge of town close to the bridge. Already in attendance was Charles who nodded in greeting as they arrived. A few minutes later they could hear the clatter of horseshoes on cobblestone and the whinnying of the horses as the carriage appeared with Williams in the driver's bench. As he slowed the horses to bring the carriage alongside the small group he grinned at them.

"More people! More new faces! More new friends! Wonderful, it is! Wonderful!" He exclaimed happily.

"See?" Gerri suggested to the others with gentle amusement. "Childlike. And rather refreshing at times if I may say so, considering all the gloom."

"I'm hardly your friend!" Sniped an arrogant voice from inside the carriage.

The others glanced at each other in surprise as a blonde, aristocratic looking man in Crusader armor exited the carriage with a huff. "Bring my bags you simpleton and make it quick!"

"Certainly, good sir, certainly!" Williams replied cheerfully, unfazed by the man's attitude. "Williams will take good care of the bags and baubles he will! Yes!"

"I should hope so!" The man sneered before looking about at the town and the group waiting for him. "Ah, a welcoming committee. Lovely. Tell your Lord that Sir Andre Bertrand of the Order of Saint George has arrived."

Charles stepped forward and held out his hand, wishing to keep their first meeting positive. "Your assistance is most welcome Sir Andre."

The Crusader looked down at the man's hand with an air of disgust as if it were diseased before sneering at him. "Of course it is, you commoner. Now stop dwaddling and go get your Lord, I'm certain we have a great deal to discuss!"

The others looked at each other with a mix of shock and amusement as Charles glared at the man's presumption.

"And just whom do you think you are addressing sir?" He asked frostily. "I make it a point to greet new arrivals out of courtesy and I have done so. Your manners on the other hand leave much to be desired. In the space of a few minutes you have not only insulted me but my servant as well."

Andre looked at Charles unimpressed. "And you would be?"

"Charles Ezekiel, Lord of this estate and your new master for the time being." Charles stated firmly.

Andre's eyes widened at this, his face paling slightly before he bowed low to the man. "My most sincere apologies, my Lord. I didn't realize you were in attendance. The Chapter Master provided no description of your countenance you see. Had I known…"

"Enough!" Charles snapped. "I will forgive it this once but take such presumption with me again and I will make sure you are sent back to the chapter house with a very scathing letter of disapproval from myself. Is that clear?"

Bertrand straightened. "Most assuredly my Lord. I am at your disposal."

Charles nodded, a frown on his face. "Good. You will find a room at the tavern for your use. Get settled in, have a meal, and familiarize yourself with the town for now. I'll be speaking with you and the others shortly about the work we are doing here."

Andre inclined his head before snapping his fingers imperiously at Williams to retrieve his belongings as he marched towards the tavern.

"I can tell 'e's gonna be a joy to 'ave around." Dismas groused as the other carriage door opened.

A large and brown-furred boar hound leaped down from the carriage steps along with a large, burly man with an unkempt mop of blonde hair streaked with grey. A full scraggly beard covered his weather-beaten face and a red bandana encircled his forehead. He wore a quilted jerkin and large tartan scarf around his neck and shoulders. Attached to his waist via a wide belt were several satchels and a large cudgel.

"Greetings good sir!" The man said with a Scottish brogue. "Mortimer Macdonald, at your service!"

Charles gazed at the man curiously before his eyes widened a bit, the face bringing forth a memory from his childhood. "I remember you!" He exclaimed in surprise. "Mr. Macdonald the Houndsman! I used to visit your kennels when I was younger!"

The man peered at Charles's face for a moment. "Young master Charles? As I live and breathe! It is you! How are ye, laddie?" He asked, laughing and slapping his thigh.

"I'm well Mr. Macdonald!" Charles said with a warm smile as he clasped the man's hand in welcome. "It's been far too long!"

"Indeed it has!" The man agreed. "But you're too old in the tooth to be callin' me Mr. Macdonald now, I wager! Just Mortimer will do."

"Mortimer it is." Charles agreed. "What brings you here? I don't recall sending you an invitation, not that you aren't welcome of course." He assured him.

"Well when I see carriage after carriage movin' across the roads towards the hamlet when for the longest time there's only been the one every so often I got curious as to what was goin' on. So I hitched a ride with old Williams here to see what's what."

"Gone a bit odd, hasn't he?" The man muttered to him confidentially.

Charles smiled gently. "The years have been hard on him but he is still the kind and sweet man he always was. If a bit sillier in his phrasings."

"How good it was to see the Dog Man, yes!" Williams said as he returned from assisting Andre with his luggage. "Such a long time it's been! So long and yet no change in him at all, but the grey!" Kneeling down next to the boar hound he began scratching the dog about the ears. "Ohhh such a good boy you are! So adorable! Could Williams perhaps buy one of the Dog Man's puppies for himself?" He asked beseechingly, looking up at the Scotsman. "So cute they are! A fine companion for Williams they would make!"

"The old boy isn't what you'd call a pet Mr. Williams." The man replied a bit gruffly. "And the dogs I train are for tracking and hunting. But I'll see what I can do for ye."

"Oh thank you good sir!" Williams said happily as he stood, the mud from the road dirtying hit pant legs. "Williams would love a dog to keep him company! Come sir! This way! This way to the tavern! Good food, warm fires, and soft beds we have, yes! And many new friends to meet as well!" He grinned, gesturing for the man to follow him.

"I suppose we'll talk later lad." Mortimer said to Charles with a smile. "I haven't seen Williams this worked up in years."

Charles chuckled lightly at this. "Friends have been few and far between for some time in these parts."

Nodding sagely the man collected his belongings and followed after Williams, allowing the final passenger to disembark.

From the conveyance stepped a swarthy Arabian man, his black hair partially concealed by the white turban wrapped about his head. A thick dark mustache and trim pointed beard adorned his face, his keen black eyes flicking back and forth. He was dressed in a light brown professor's robe with curled crimson embroidery on the hem and sleeves. At his belted waist sat a curved Khanjar dagger of white bone and damascus steel as well as a travelling bag filled with various papers and scrolls. On the opposite side of his waist, bound with rope, was a human skull with a red candle molded to the top of it.

Stepping towards the group he inclined his head before touching his fingertips together. "Sa'lam A'leykum. I am Professor Jacques Al'bin. Doctor Bellecoat requested my presence and I have come."

Charles stepped forward and shook the man's hand. "A pleasure to meet you. Charles Ezekiel."

The man returned the shake firmly. "The pleasure is mine." He said. "It is given to very few to be able to study the Darkness first hand. I look forward to my time here."

Charles raised an eyebrow at the man's reply. "You do realize we are here to destroy the Darkness, not study it."

"To fight the Abyss, one must know it." The man intoned with a predatory smile. "And I intend to learn all I can about our enemy before dispatching it."

Charles nodded. "A sound plan. Come, let me show you to the tavern where you can refresh yourself. We'll gather everyone together this evening for a proper introduction and then explain the situation then."

The professor followed at Charles's back as the others followed in his wake.

* * *

A/N: A brief respite from the action and a chance to bring in new faces.


	9. Into the Woods

A/N: My apologies for this chapter taking so long but I had another writing project that took priority over this. After that I started the first couple chapters of the third book in my main series Chronicles of Utopia which I couldn't wait to start on. I plan to alternate between the two more often now.

Chapter 8: Into the Woods

"We encountered some resistance along the road," Andre was saying as the group of nine sat in one of the larger sitting rooms of the manor house that evening, "bandits and cutthroats all of them. Not in large numbers but enough to make a nuisance of themselves."

"If the bandits are becoming more brazen we will need to deal with them." Charles said decisively. "I would not have the road become a choke point that squeezes the life out of the hamlet when we are only now restoring it."

"I quite agree, my Lord." Andre said pompously. "If you will allow me I shall be glad to hunt these vermin down and slay them."

"There are more than bandits in those woods." Charles warned him. "One man alone would be lost and taken easily, we cannot afford that. I would have others go with you."

"If you think that is best my Lord." Andre replied, seemingly unconvinced.

"Reynauld is still on the mend and Hannah has not yet returned from her trip to London." Charles mused. "We have others who could go but given that there are more...conventional threats at play here perhaps we should have our newest arrivals 'cut their teeth' on these menaces, as it were." He offered.

"If you wish for me to lend my aid in this matter I will do so." The Arabic man stated.

"I'll go wherever ye need me to Laddie." Mortimer declared stoutly.

"Then it is settled, the three of us shall go." Andre stated.

"Not quite." Charles said, holding up a hand. "I would prefer to have at least one of our more experienced people go with you. You are unfamiliar with this place and do not know the paths as many have become overgrown. Dismas," Charles said, looking over at the Highwayman, "you have gotten to know those paths fairly well have you not?"

"I've been scoutin' out some o' the trails since me legs got better." Dismas admitted. "None too far from the town mind, but a little ways."

Charles nodded. "The forest is quite large as it is, I would not have our newest members trek from one end of it to the other. A short venture should do well enough for the moment I think."

"A simple enough matter I expect." Andre said dismissively. "I shall keep the others in line as we search for these miscreants and dispatch them."

Charles raised an eyebrow at this. "You misunderstand. Dismas will be leading this expedition."

The Frenchman sat up in affront at this. "I will not be led about by the nose by some commoner!" He protested. "I am Sir Andre Bertrand, Baronet! I do not follow in the dust of others!"

"You shall have ample opportunity to prove to me that you are a leader of men." Charles assured him. "But at the moment I require that you follow Dismas."

"But he is a commoner and a robber besides!" The man protested. "Surely-"

"Oi!" Dismas protested. "I gave up that life I'll 'ave you know! Wouldn't be 'ere otherwise would I?"

"That hardly puts you in proper standing with the Law and the Light!" Bertrand retorted before turning to Charles. "A Crusader leads men into battle, he does not follow behind the rank and file like a coward!"

"Enough Bertrand!" Charles said sharply with a frown on his face. "I have full confidence in Dismas and I do not consider him an inferior. At the moment he has far more experience with these matters than yourself. Do you disagree with that?"

Andre pursed his lips at this. "I cannot." He replied reluctantly.

"And does it not make sense that the scout and tracker should go before the army as lookout to ensure a safe march?" Charles continued.

Frowning in annoyance at the point the man was making he nevertheless nodded. "You speak the truth, my Lord." He sighed.

"Then I fail to see the issue." Charles replied pointedly, his cool gaze remaining firmly fixed on the man.

Sighing to himself Andre nodded brusquely. "I shall follow our…'tracker's' lead as you command."

"Good." Charles said briskly before looking about at the others. "Does anyone else have any concerns?"

Seeing a gaggle of shaking heads Charles stood. "Then I bid you good afternoon. Dismas I believe you can coordinate things from here. Let me know if you have any concerns."

"Aye." The man said idly as the others began to file out of the room, leaving the group behind.

"Right then," Dismas said, looking at the three of them, "since I'll be leadin' you lot 'about the nose' as it were," he said with a smirk at Andre who glared back at him, "I'll be needin' to know what you lot can do. Why don' we start wi' you Frenchie?" He suggested, gesturing at Andre.

"I'll thank you to call my by my proper name sir." Andre stated stiffly. "I am Crusader Sir Andre Bertrand, Baronet."

"If we're in th' middle o' battle I can't very well be callin' out that long thing you call a name." Dismas retorted. "Ye'll be dead before I'm 'alfway through."

"Be that as it may I refuse to be referred to as 'Frenchie'!" Bertrand retorted. "It is insulting to my heritage and my homeland."

Dismas shrugged. "I s'pose I could be callin' ya 'Bert' instead."

The Crusader growled softly in frustration at the offhand comment.

"If we could dispense with this rather pointless byplay...?" Al'Bin suggested quietly with a put upon sigh.

"Right, right. " Dismas said with a nod. "So, Crusader Sir Andre Bertrand, Baronet, what can ye do?"

"I am quite proficient with my blade and have trained many of the new recruits in the Order on how to comport themselves on the field of battle." The man stated with pride. "Under my tutelage they learn discipline, swordsmanship, and martial maneuvers."

"Good enough." Dismas nodded, making the man bristle slightly at the dismissal as the Highwayman turned to Al'Bin. "Wot about you, Towelhead?"

Frowning in annoyance at the designation the man answered. "I am skilled in the arcane arts and am able to cast hexes and curses upon any who might threaten me. I am also versed in healing magic as well. Not the kind that the Light uses but useful for our purposes."

"Good, we'll be needin' a 'ealer 'less I'm very wrong." Dismas said before turning to Mortimer. "And you, Scottie?"

"Mah dogs be well-trained to hunt and attack on command and Ah'm no slouch with me cudgel." The barrel-chested man replied gruffly.

Dismas nodded. "I'd say we'll do well enough for a short trip. Come on then, daylight's burnin' so no time to waste."

The long-coated man left the room with the other three following after him. Stopping at William's store near the edge of town to pick up supplies they made their way across the hamlet and the sluggish river nearby before entering a trail near the main road.

"There's a side path 'ere that leads to a clearin'." Dismas informed them. "We'll check it out first, make sure there ain't no bandits campin' there."

Taking the side path the group made their way between the trees, the early evening sun through the canopy above them illuminating the forest in orange and rusty colors. After walking a few hundred feet Dismas suddenly held up a hand to stop the others.

"Four up ahead!" He whispered to the others. "They don' know we're on to 'em yet."

"What are they armed with?" Andre asked quietly.

"Best I can figure, two riflemen and two wit' blades." He replied.

Andre nodded. "Very well, we have the element of surprise, no sense in wasting it."

"Can you even move quiet in that armor?" Dismas asked, referencing the janging and clanking the man had been making up to this point.

Andre gave him a disdainful glance. "Most assuredly I can."

Putting his finger to his lips to the other two to ensure they moved quietly as well, Andre and the others crept forward along the beaten path. True to his word the Crusader was able to move almost completely silently, carefully moving each limb with cool foresight as he moved between the trees. The group of four ahead of them were standing in the middle of the path discussing various matters, unaware of their plight as Dismas carefully lined up a shot with his pistol.

"Scottie, turn ye dog loose on 'em when I say." Dismas muttered softly. "Frenchie, the one I shoot is the one I want you to take. Towelhead, do what you can with one o' the rifle boys. Got it?"

Bristling in annoyance at being addressed as 'Frenchie' but unwilling to start a fight at the moment, the Crusader nodded brusquely in understanding, the other two doing the same though Jacques had a displeased look on his face as well.

A moment later Dismas gestured subtly to Mortimer.

Murmuring words in the hound's ear the stout man unleashed the animal from its chain. The great wolf hound immediately raced forward down the path, its muzzle slavering as it crossed the distance between the two groups in seconds. The bandits only had time to look up in puzzlement at the sound of paws against the underbrush before it leaped at the men, sinking its teeth into the leg of one of the riflemen, making him cry out in shock and pain. At the same time Dismas's pistol barked loudly, catching one of the other swordsmen in the side. The dog quickly charged the second rifleman, its teeth tearing into the man's leg as Andre charged forward with a war cry. The surprised highwaymen stared in shock at the armored man's sudden appearance while further back, Al'Bin began to chant in Arabic, his hands moving deftly in the air before him, his other hand holding the skull with the lit candle. Andre's blade slashed the injured swordsman's quilted armor, slicing into the flesh of the man's chest while the hound tore into one of the blademen, his blood dripping freely from the wound. A moment later the Arabian completed his summons.

Arcane energy charged the very air around the men before a dark portal of swirling violet energy erupted into being behind one of the riflemen. As the man turned to face this new threat a massive tentacle shot from it, slamming into the man and knocking him backward, disorienting him and causing him to clutch his stomach in pain as the hound found its fourth mark, doing little damage but causing the man to bleed from the inflicted wound. As the group ran towards the bandits the other rifleman quickly raised his gun to fire upon them. The weapon boomed loudly as shot flew from its muzzle, the man's aim wide though it caused the hound and the others to fall back slightly and regroup. The second blade wielder took advantage of the momentary distraction to dart forward and stab at Andre, the blade's point hitting him in the arm with blood flowing freely from his forearm. The first bandit, unwilling to try and tackle the Crusader, ran towards the Scotsman, slashing open his heavy knit jerkin and sweater underneath, slicing him in the stomach. Staggering back Mortimer whistled shrilly and the bandit found himself on the receiving end of the wolf hound's teeth, making him jacknife away with a series of curses before racing back towards his fellows, the dog having found another leg to sink its teeth into. As the man raced past his bladed comrade the dog clamped its jaws into the other man's thigh, making him cry out and stagger.

The rifleman that had been injured by the tentacle's attack quickly recovered, raising his gun and firing, the sprayed shot hitting all of the group including the wolf hound who leaped away with a yelp, though the shot did little damage to them. Dismas's pistol roared again in response, the grapeshot hitting the seriously injured bladesman and the tentacled rifleman in their faces, sending both to the ground in heaps. The second rifleman frantically fired off another shot that went wide though the distraction was enough to give the bladed bandit another stab at Andre, the blade siding under the edge of his breast plate and piercing the man's stomach. Al'Bin, seeing the Crusader's wound quickly began to cast another spell. Dark power flooded over Andre's wound, sealing shut the worst of the damage though the wound still continued to bleed freely. Furious, Andre lashed out with his blade with a loud cry, the weapon slashing the man's neck to pieces. As the bandit fell Dismas saw the rifleman lining up a shot at the Crusader.

"Down Frenchie!" Dismas yelled.

Hearing the urgency in the man's voice Andre quickly ducked, giving Dismas a clear shot at the rifleman's head. The pistol roared again and the former Highwayman's shot flew true, hitting the man in the head, felling him like a tree.

Taking a moment to breathe, Andre retrieved a bandage wrap from his pack, wrapping his stomach wound closed as the others took stock.

"Everyone alright?" Dismas asked as he looked about.

Mortimer nodded. "Th' dober's blade didn't do so much damage as ah feared. Ah should be fine assumin' we take care o' this back in town."

"Between Al'Bin's work and the bandage I should be fine." Andre grunted as Mortimer examined the dog's slight flank injury from the rifle shot before rubbing its head fondly and chaining it again.

Moving further down the path they came to a small clearing with a few tents. Finding a small wooden chest near the edge of the clearing Dismas opened it to reveal several title deeds as well as two small busts and a small sack of gold.

"Nice pickin's t' start off with." He mused as the group filled their packs with the loot.

"We are taking these back to Lord Ezekiel, yes?" Andre asked Dismas suspiciously which earned him a glare from the man.

"O' course we are. We all work for 'im don't we?"

"Of course." Andre stated flatly. No doubt the man intends to line his pockets the moment my back is turned. I shall have to keep a close eye on him.

Seemingly divining his thoughts Dismas gave him one last glare before leading the party back the way they came. Moving down the main pathway a flock of birds scattered into the air with a loud rustling and flapping of wings, the light turning more orange as dusk approached. Bending down, the Crusader examined a patch of oddly colored mushrooms.

"Curious, these. I wonder…"

The man suddenly felt a hand rest on his shoulder guard. Glancing up he saw Mortimer shaking his head with a wary look in his eyes.

"Ah wouldna touch any o' that Laddie." The man said. "Ah knew this forest a score o' years and tis a far darker thing than it was. Nothin' right 'bout the trees an' the plants. All of it twisted and gnarly now."

Nodding Andre stood, following after Dismas as he led them through the thick molting trees.

"So Frenchie here comes from th' London chapter of ol' George like Winters and Scottie is a neighbor," Dismas remarked as they made their way down the main path, "but where do you 'ail from Towelhead?"

"Continue to call me 'Towelhead' and you will find yourself on the receiving end of the dark forces I command." Al'Bin remarked tartly, his dark eyes glittering as he glared at Dismas.

Dismas shrugged, apparently willing to drop the matter. "Fine, Al'Bin, where do you 'ail from?"

"I am one of the esteemed professors of Occult Studies at Oxford University." The man stated with some pride. "I most recently took over there as Chair a year ago given the...retirement of the previous holder of the office and my extensive knowledge of various esoteric practices."

"Rather surprising that a place as steeped in English history as Oxford would allow someone of your...background to become Chair of one of their departments." The Frenchman remarked. "Their highest positions are usually reserved for those who have proven their English bloodline pedigree rather than any practical experience in the subject."

The Arabic man smirked, his eyes glittering with dark humor. "You are quite right in that they would normally have been reluctant to have me as Chair. Thankfully I can be very...persuasive when I wish to be. Fortunately they saw the merit in the arguments I put forth and acquiesced."

Andre glanced over at the man with an amused look but decided to drop any further questions as as rustling in the brush came from nearby, causing Dismas to halt the company. Suddenly another group of bandits sprang from the nearby trees. One was a giant of a man with heavy leather armor wielding a cat 'o nine tails and pistol as well as two men, each with a pair of short swords, with a rifleman further back.

"To wot do we owe the pleasure, gentlemen?" Dismas asked them coolly.

The giant smiled grimly at them. "We 'appened to be in the neighborhood when we 'eard a ruckus goin' on nearby. Turns out some blokes decided to knock off some of our mates and take their stuff. We mean to make you lot pay for their blood!"

"Anybody think diplomacy 'ill work with this lot?" Dismas asked the others and only got shakes of their heads in reply. "Thought not. Let's be about it then." He said firmly as he suddenly leaped forward, pulling out his knife and slashing at the giant's armor, cutting through it and making the man bleed.

"Oi!" The rifleman shouted angrily as he raised his gun and fired wildly, allowing everyone to dodge the buckshot.

The failed shot allowed Al'Bin to quickly cast another healing spell at Andre, healing him further as the dark energies regenerated his wounds.

"Get 'em boy!" Mortimer shouted with a pointed finger, unshackling the hound who immediately raced forward.

Surprised by the group's unflinching stance towards their rifleman's attack the dog managed to close on them, his teeth ripping into the giant's vulnerable flesh before leaping at the swordsmen, creating bleeding wounds on each of them. Seeing the bandits distracted by the dog Andre ran forward, drawing his sword. The giant dodged the Crusader's wide slash allowing the swordsman behind him to rush forward, slashing with both blades. Andre quickly twisted away, allowing the blade to arc by while Dismas ducked, making the blade whiff over his head. The giant, being closest to Andre whipped out his flintlock and fired at near point blank range, the bullet piercing the armor and reopening the Crusader's wounds again, making him stumble back with a pained cry while the swordsman fell back to avoid Dismas' weapons. At Mortimer's whistle the hound came rushing back into the fray attacking the giant, ripping away another piece of armor and flesh, making the man yelp.

Frantically muttering dark words of power Jacques gestured at the injured Crusader and the eye sockets of the skull he carried glowed with malevolent light. Once more dark violet energies shot from his fingertips, soaking into the man's damaged flesh and knitting the injuries together, partially healing him.

"Gotta knock out that bloody tub!" Dismas growled softly, drawing his blade again.

The dog's distraction allowed Dismas to run forward out of the man's line of sight and slash at him with his blade. Nicking something vital the man cried out, the wound bleeding freely while one of the bladesmen, seeing the flash of energy hit the Crusader, ran forward before Andre could react in time, slashing at him again and injuring him further before dancing back at the Crusader's desperate slash. Shouting a string of curses in French at being healed and injured almost at the same time Andre charged forward with a furious yell, venting his spleen upon the giant of a man that stood in his way. Ducking under the man's meaty fist the Frenchman closed the distance before stabbing the man deep in the gut with his blade before yanking it out, blood and feces pouring out of the deadly wound before retreating to get out of the man's reach. Roaring in pain with nothing left to lose the man yanked his lash free before racing towards the group. The multi-headed lash sliced into the three men tearing open cloth and leaving wounds in their flesh, making them scatter in fear though Andre's armor protected him from the worst of it as the rifleman fired once more, the shot missing them.

"Saints preserve us!" Mortimer gasped in pain, the lash having cut through his jerkin and scored a deep cut in his chest.

"Allow me!" Jacques said as he quickly weaved another spell of healing, the violet magic healing the worst of the damage across the man's body though the chest wound still remained open and bleeding slowly.

"Is that the best ye can do?!" The man asked incredulously as he pressed a ragged piece of cloth against the wound to try and seal it against infection.

.

The Arabic man frowned at the question. "The Powers I draw upon for aid do not always respond in full. Be thankful they granted you that at least."

Cursing in Gaelic Mortimer looked over to see Dismas's pistol firing at the bandits, the grapeshot putting the giant down for good, the rest hitting one of the bladesmen and making him stagger. Whistling for his hound he pointed towards the rifleman who was attempting to load another shot. The massive dog zipped around the other two men before leaping onto the bandit, biting and clawing at his face. Falling to the ground with a scream the man buffeted the dog with his fists and arms before finally dislodging him. The man slowly staggered to his feet, rifle in hand with one hand pressed against the side of his partially ruined face and neck as his foes regrouped.

"I'll kill all of ya gods-damn wankers!" He yelled as he quickly took aim and fired.

The shots flew true, hitting each of them and making them stumble back with grunts and hisses of pain. Taking the opportunity one of the bladed bandits ran forward slashing at Bertrand. The Crusader twisted, the blade scoring a shallow cut before the man dodged away.

"Light protect me!" The Frenchman shouted and his body briefly became enveloped in warm comforting light, healing some of his minor wounds and strengthening him before the aura faded.

The maimed rifleman, his injuries apparently helping him focus, fired once again hitting all in the group.

His robe now torn in several places the Occultist shouted to the others as he began to weave another spell. "For the love of Allah will someone put that man out of our misery?!"

"Little busy right now Towelhead!" Dismas shouted back as he dodged one of the bladed bandit's attempt to stab him before firing his pistol into the man's face, making him stumble back with a scream. "Scottie! Dog! Now!" Dismas shouted.

"Aye!" The Scotsman shouted before whistling shrilly.

The hound raced at the injured man, ending his life as it leaped at the man, tearing out his throat. Unfortunately the dog's actions caused the dying man to slam against Andre, both of them falling to the ground with the man's dead weight on top of him.

"If he gets blood on my clothes you're going to pay for my cleaning bill MacDonald!" The Frenchman shouted angrily as the man's life blood spurted across his armor, the Crusader struggling to free himself.

"Don't be blowin' a gasket Laddie!" The stout man retorted as the other short sword-wielding bandit ran towards Jacques.

The sorcerer managed to keep hold of the spell weave in his fingers while dodging the man's shank attempt, completing the spell a moment later. Healing energy washed over Mortimer but only healed a few small wounds.

"Blast it all!" The Arabic man cursed while several yards away Andre managed to shove away the bleeding body and right himself, his armor covered in crimson fluid.

"Finish him boy!" Mortimer shouted before whistling to his dog once again as Dismas raced towards the swordsman attempting to skewer Jacques. The bloodied rifleman fell to the dog's vicious teeth, his face and neck torn apart as Dismas blade slammed into the swordsman's neck, the man falling to the ground and expiring moments later as his blood covered the ground.

"Finally!" Al'Bin panted.

"Everyone alright?" Dismas asked.

"Rather worse for wear Laddie but I'll live." MacDonald grunted.

"Me coat's gonna need a good washing after this." Dismas remarked, looking at the various wounds on his body that were slowing seeping blood into the garment.

"Your coat?" Andre asked dismissively. "What about my armor?" He asked with some outrage. "It's going to take me days to get the stains out and Light knows how much polish to get it to shine again! Ugh!"

Dismas smirked at the man's disgust. "Guess I was right. That armor 'o yours is just for show, all prancin' about in parades lookin' pretty."

The Frenchman turned away in frustration with a disgusted noise as MacDonald tended to his dog. Dismas quickly rifled through the bandits' packs, finding some crests and a few pouches of gold.

"Can ye do any 'ealin' on us Towelhead?" Dismas asked as he distributed the treasure to everyone.

The man attempted to focus the Power again before shaking his head. "Sadly I cannot."

"You were able to do it a few moments ago!" Andre protested. "Do not tell me you are holding your magic in reserve for yourself!"

"Indeed I am not!" The man retorted with a scowl.

"Well then?" Bertrand demanded.

"The magic does not come from within me or from the Light." The man said shortly. "It is not at my beck and call. It responds as it wills."

The Crusader's eyes narrowed in distrust. "There is only one other source where such power can come from." He said warningly.

Al'Bin nodded. "The Void."

Andre hissed in displeasure. "You dared to use such foul magics on my person?!" He demanded. "Surely I have been tainted by the power now that you have used it on me!"

"Cease such foolish prattle!" The Arabic man barked. "Power is power no matter the source! The Powers of the Void may demand some small sacrifice for such healing but I do not permit Them to taint the receiver! Do you think I had not considered such matters beforehand? I used the power on myself as you recall! I would not do so if it could harm me in such a way!"

"Can we put all this away?" Dismas said loudly, glaring at the two of them. "Frenchie you're no worse for it so let it go fer now. Blab yer heads off back at th' inn but right now we got other things to worry 'bout!"

"Fine!" The Crusader huffed as he tried to clean some of the drying blood off of his armor with some of the dead bandits' clothes.

After waiting for a few minutes to let everyone catch their breath and clean their weapons, or in Andre's case his armor, they continued on down the path. After a few hundred feet they came along a row of gravestones, most of them leaning to the side and one with a statue of a wailing figure in a cloak.

"Lovely scenery." Andre grumbled.

"Somethin' else tha's interesting." Mortimer said, studying the graves. "These two been dug recently."

Dismas walked over and examined the fresh earth before looking about. "Anyone think to bring a shovel?"

"Surely you're not thinking of doing what I think you are!" Andre said in outrage.

Dismas shrugged as Mortimer handed him a short wooden shovel from his pack. "Sometimes grave robbin' pays off. Not like they need it now, innit?"

"I refuse to be a party to this desecration!" He insisted, walking down the path for several yards.

"Suit y'self." Dismas replied as he continued to dig. A few minutes later he discovered the mostly rotted body with a few pieces of onyx and jade amongst the bones.

"A few baubles 'ere." He smiled, putting them in a pouch.

Working on the second grave he soon found more jade as well as a small painting wrapped in oil canvas to preserve it before the shovel's flimsy shaft broke.

"What daft fool buries a painting with a body?" Mortimer asked with a hint of incredulousness.

"Perhaps he wanted to be buried with his masterpiece." Jacques suggested lightly.

"Anyway, let's move on." Dismas said, urging the others forward.

Catching up with Andre who gave them all a glare of disgust they continued until they hit a clearing that opened onto the main road. Dusk was well under way as they continued further into the forest by following the deepening path. Pushing through several overgrown bushes they found themselves confronted by two bandits with short swords and a rifleman.

"'Ands up!" The rifleman shouted, pointing the loaded weapon at them.

Standing in front of the others Andre glanced back at them with a cold smirk and a wink before slowly raising his hands. Hidden behind the others Al'Bin faded back behind the bushes and quickly began weaving a healing spell, the Powers that Be thankfully answering his silent plea, as Dismas began to raise one hand, the other subtly readying his pistol.

"Gentlemen! We're rather hungry, would you happen to have any grapes on you?" He asked.

The bandits looked at him in confusion as Dismas muttered. "I have."

Nodding Andre spun to the side, reaching for his sword as Dismas's raised pistol fired, the grapeshot hitting all three of the bandits, staggering them. The Houndmaster's whistle pierced the air and the wolf hound shot forward with slavering jaws leaping onto the first two men in quick succession before tearing into the third, their arms or legs bleeding from the savage bites. Meanwhile, Al'Bin having completed his spell, sent it at Andre who had freed his weapon from its scabbard. The Crusader felt the power wash over him, restoring some of his strength and healing a few of his wounds before a chill fell across his shoulders. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up before a shallow wound appeared across his cheek bleeding slightly. Eyes wide he touched his cheek with a gloved finger as faint cruel laughter echoed softly in his ears for a brief moment.

Shaking his head and focusing on the battle in front of him the Crusader rushed forward slashing at the nearest bandit, his sword cutting open the man's leather armor as he recovered from the grapeshot. The rifleman brought up his weapon and fired at them but their successful scattering caused the pellets to pass by harmlessly. As Andre and his foe began to circle each other the man suddenly ducked forward under the Crusader's guard, slicing open his shoulder and elbow joints where his armor was weaker with his blades, making the man stumble back with a cry of pain.

"Damn and blast!" Andre hissed angrily.

"You ain't as tough as you think you is in all that pretty plate!" The bandit jeered as the second swordsman quickly approached to aid his fellow in dispatching the Crusader.

Noticing this Dismas ran forward, ducking under the second man's quick swipe before stabbing him with his knife as Mortimer's wolfhound returned to the man's side, Al'Bin having left the safety of the bushes in order to cast more spells easily. Seeing them standing fairly close together the rifleman quickly reloaded and fired his weapon, the spread shot slamming into all of them, sending Mortimer to one knee with a loud cry as the shots reopened his chest wound causing it to bleed copiously.

Hissing in anger and pain from the attack Al'Bin forced himself to weave another spell. Silently beseeching the Void for aid he spent several precious seconds inscribing more violet lines of energy into the air before twisting them together. Suddenly the dark power flowed more easily as one of his Patrons deigned to focus on him. Shoving the spell forward he invoked the dark being's name in praise.

"NAH'MEH'ROTH!" He shouted as the magic blazed across Mortimer's body, healing the chest wound completely as well as several others, allowing the man to get back on his feet.

"My thanks Laddie!" The man panted.

"Can you still fight?" Jacques asked.

"Aye! 'Ah'm nay back to full strength but I ain't goin' down yet!" He asserted before whistling to his hound. "Boy! Get that royal bastard!" He shouted, pointing at the rifleman.

The hound quickly raced from the bushes nearby slamming into the man and harrowing him with his teeth before leaping away and jumping onto the bandit attacking Andre, knocking him off balance and allowing the Crusader to end him with a slash to the throat with his sword. Dismas, who had been dancing back and forth against his bladed assailant saw the man become distracted by the dog's sudden appearance in their midst and struck like a coiled snake, stabbing the man through his eye, making him fall with a scream. His foe dispatched Andre ran forward before the injured rifleman could reload his weapon, the man's head flying away from his body with a powerful slice from the Crusader's weapon.

Taking a moment the Crusader stabbed his sword into the ground, leaning tiredly on the crossguards, his arms and shoulders aching from their wounds.

"Nobody in danger o' dyin' I hope." Dismas remarked as he looked about.

A moment later the evening sun slipped beneath the large hills in the distance, hiding the last rays of the sun and a soft chill wind blew through the forest, shaking the leaves. Dismas's neck hairs stood on end as the forest suddenly seemed to take on a grim edge he had not felt until now.

"We have crossed over." The sorcerer said ominously, looking about with his sharp black eyes. "Night has begun and the dark forces at work in this land regain their full strength until true dawn."

"Stop tryin' ta scare us Laddie!" Mortimer retorted gruffly. "Tis the same forest we were in a moment ago!"

Al'Bin gazed at him unblinkingly, his gaze sharp. "You would do well to not speak of things you know nothing about, Houndmaster." He warned softly.

"Look, we ain't seen nothin' but bandits." Dismas reasoned. "Nothin' spooky about them."

"I fear we shall face worse things before this night is over." Al'Bin replied.

Andre walked over to Dismas. "How close are we to completing our mission here?" He asked.

"The path lets out onto the main road about a quarter mile from here." Dismas replied. "Once we finish clearin' this last bit we'll call it quits. Everyone's on their last legs as it is."

"Ah thought this outing twas to 'cut our teeth'." Mortimer grumped. "Not get the noodles beaten out of us."

Dismas looked at him darkly. "At least we've only faced bandits. Down in th' catacombs there's bandits and worse besides."

Mortimer blew out a breath at this as the group continued to trudge down the trail with Dismas reloading his guns while Mortimer gave his dog a treat.

"I've yet to see you actually engage our foes in combat." Andre mentioned quietly as he began walking alongside Mortimer. "Have you any skill with a weapon yourself or do you rely on your dogs to do your work for you?" He asked with a sidelong glance of disdain.

"Trainin' the mutts to do what they're told like this is work and a half as it is." The man replied gruffly. "Takes years o' work to mold 'em into what they are now. But if need be I 'ave me cudgel too. Don't do much more than give 'em a knock on the noggin though. Never was one for swords and maces."

"I sense there's a story behind that." The Crusader replied blandly.

"Ah did more than train doggies Lad." The man remarked. "Twasn't long ago I was a lawman in these lands. Findin' folk who'd hid from the Law and bring 'em back for trial. Me dogs and me cudgel was all Ah needed."

"A bounty hunter then." The Crusader mused. "Curious but certainly helpful."

A few minutes later the group came to a clearing in the trees, the ground ahead of them seemingly wet with several oily puddles amidst small piles of bones. As they made their way through the clearing the puddles suddenly began to bubble before rising upward and coalescing into three large gelatinous forms as tall as a man, each with a skull and several other human bones floating suspended inside them.

"What the sodding 'ell are those things?!" Dismas asked in shocked disbelief.

"The Darkness is here!" Al'Bin called out in warning.

"Ah see that ye daft fool!" Mortimer retorted.

"Well the Darkness can kiss me arse!" Dismas shouted as he recovered from the shock, yanking out his pistol and firing.

The grapeshot blasts tore through each of the slimy creatures, blowing out large chunks of them that slowly began to fill in as the Highwayman reloaded. Meanwhile Al'Bin began to weave another healing spell as all of them were in poor shape by this point. As Andre ran forward, raising his blade over his head Al'Bin cast the spell at him, fearful that the creature's potential retributive strike would kill the man. Healing magic flowed over the Crusader, emboldening him even further as he felt the wounds in his arms and upper body heal, allowing him to steady his blade before swinging it downwards with a yell, bisecting the creature in half. The creature barely let out a squeak before falling to pieces. Mortimer's whistle sent the hound racing towards the creature furthest back, the dog's momentum as it leaped enough to send the creature's ectoplasm spraying in all directions as it exploded from the impact, the large canine shaking itself off in disgust a moment later. The last remaining slime suddenly shot forward past Andre and slammed into Dismas, knocking him to the ground, the man coughing up blood, the extent of his injuries finally catching up with him.

"Sodding 'ell!" he hacked, blood dribbling down his chin as he clutched his chest with his arm.

"No." Al'Bin muttered, his eyes blazing with fury. "NO! He shall not perish here!" The man swore loudly. "IN THE NAME OF NAH'MEH'LOTH THE DARK WATCHER, BY THE ANCIENT COMPACTS BOUND IN BLOOD AND SACRIFICE, I COMMAND THE VOID TO SERVE ME!" He shouted to the heavens as he recklessly pulled power from the aether, summoning forth another spell.

You dare much to call upon me so brazenly worm. A dark and sinister voice echoed from deep within as his mind conjured frightful visions of a massive dark creature with a multitude of eyes floating malevolently in the empty wastes of putrid space between the stars. Yet you have praised me and this insignificant little outing upon your world amuses me in some small way so I shall grant what you desire. But know my gift shall come with strings, to be pulled when I desire it.

For now, enjoy your tiny victory, puppet.

Coming back to himself the sorcerer felt power flood his body as the spell he was created charged itself immensely. Throwing the spell at Dismas the man felt its bindings weave throughout his body, stitching him back together within seconds, leaving him feeling whole and strong once again. Grabbing his pistol he shot to his feet, pressing the barrel against the creature's center of mass.

"Tell the Darkness we be comin' for 'em next!' He growled fiercely before pulling the trigger, the shot exploding the creature into near mist.

Smiling grimly the Highwayman began to reload his pistol again before glancing back at Jacques. "Nice bit o' 'ealing mate. Ain't felt this good for a while. Gonna have to get you yellin' like that more offen if that 'elps with the 'ealing."

"I must admit your healing of me was quite timely." Andre said agreeably before looking about. "Let us hope that is the last of them."

Al'Bin simply smiled with a graceful nod, unwilling to voice what the dark Power had told him.

As the group made their way down the last part of the path they came upon the gap between the main road and the trail, the space blocked by a large overgrown thorny bush. Nearby it sat two strong boxes.

"Nature herself is a victim of the spreading corruption here." Al'Bin muttered with a frown.

"Looks like the bandits been usin' this spot to keep their baubles." Dismas remarked. "Anyone else got any shovels?"

Mortimer and Andre each retrieved one from their packs and began to work on uprooting the massive bush while Dismas used his skeleton key to open the boxes. Inside sat a box filled with deeds while the other contained bandages, food, and a key.

"Nothin' to write 'ome about but these papers might be useful." Dismas remarked, folding the bundle of papers and placing them in his coat pocket just as the bush fell over with a crash, the road just beyond.

"Come on gents, the night is long and we've got a bit of a walk ahead." Dismas said.

"I never thought I would be happy to march down a long cobbled road." Bertrand said as they made their way out of the forest. "But after today's excursion I shall look upon them more favorably."

Al'Bin chuckled at this. "And thus does one learn wisdom to enjoy these simple pleasures of life."

"No one asked you...Towelhead." Andre remarked, his eyes glinting in amusement while the others simply laughed.


	10. An Interval of Increase

A\N: Just a heads-up that some of the text in this chapter is a bit hard to read but that is intentional given the context. If it's too difficult or aggravating let me know and I'll see about adjusting it in future.

Chapter 9: An Interval of Increase

 _A few days later…_

The Crusader slowly walked up the steps to the rickety church, the light of dusk shining gently on the stone walls and the simple stained glass windows that had been recently installed. Pushing open the doors he slowly made his way down the center aisle between the rows of empty, silent pews to the rear of the massive room where a massive symbol of the Light stood, anchored against the back wall, a golden circle with four short perpendicular bars facing each cardinal direction. Gazing up at the sign in silent contemplation for a moment, he made his way around the altar to the rear wall where a door sat, slightly open. Slowly pushing open the door his eyes scanned the vestry where the priests kept their ceremonial robes and paraphernalia for the daily rituals and services they performed Finding no one there he turned away from the door and descended the straight staircase against the nearby wall down to the lower floor. Passing by lit torches and lanterns along the walls he paused at the confessional room before opening the door, the room lit by a single white candle sitting on a small round table between the two chairs. The older priest, seated in one of the chairs, wrapped in a simple brown monk's robe, his lean face wrinkled and leathery from years of hardship with a ring of grey hair around his head, looked up from his silent prayer and beckoned him inside with a calloused hand. The man walked over to the other chair and slowly sat in it, the candle casting both their faces in a soft, auburn glow.

"What brings you here my son?" The priest asked softly.

Andre sat with his eyes focused on the floor, his eyes troubled as he raised them to look at the Light's representative.

"You should know that I have never had much use for priests. For years I have considered myself dedicated to the Light and its cause, enough that I was willing to take up the armor of St. George and train to fight against the forces of evil."

He sighed. "Yet...at this moment I find myself in need of one."

The man's eyes flickered back and forth uneasily, his thoughts in turmoil before he suddenly made a fist and thumped it hard against the arm of the chair in frustration, his face scrunched.

"Why do I feel as if my faith has been naught but window dressing all these years?" He exclaimed.

"Tell me what happened my son." The priest prompted gently. "What has given rise to this...crisis of faith?"

Composing his thoughts the Frenchman spoke. "A few days ago was my first excursion into the wilds nearby. I expected to lead the party but was overrode by Lord Ezekiel, as is his right of course. All was going relatively well but at the end, when night fell…"

He paused, his eyes haunted for a moment before composing himself and continuing. "I saw...I saw the Darkness come to life...I saw these...these creatures out of nightmare! Naught but slime and ectoplasm they were yet within each one floated skulls and human bones. We dispatched them easily enough yet…" He sighed in frustration. "They haunt my mind even now! Why? And why do I feel as if the Light is not the glorious Power I had believed it to be?" He asked, his eyes boring into the priest's, desperate for answers.

The priest sighed softly in compassion. "Ah my son, you are hardly the first to come to me with such burdens. Indeed there are none here that have not asked the same questions of me at some point. Take heart, for your fears and your doubts are natural given what has transpired. I will tell you what I have told the others." He said gently.

The priest paused for a moment before continuing. "Just like the others your faith has been tested. I have no doubt that in your time you have fought the fringes of the darkness where civilization thrives. But here, here in this place, you face the heart of darkness. You stand before the gates of its terrible fortress and your heart quails because you have not seen the true depravities it is capable of until now. Before what you saw were the wicked machinations of men and their greed but here...what is found here is true unholiness such that no man could match it. You do not face natural evils my son but supernatural and terrible power beyond our ken. And you ask yourself, how can the Light abide such power to exist."

Andre sighed with a nod.

The priest laced his fingers together near his chin, his face contemplative. "I have served the Light for many years." He said softly. "Through trials and tribulations that would doubtlessly break other men. I have watched the manor and then the town change from a bustling and vibrant community to the tragic wreck it was until the arrival of the new Lord. Before he came I had little hope but now, seeing what you and the others are doing and what he has done to repair that which was broken...I find hope kindling in my heart for the first time in many years. What you must understand my son is that Darkness and Light will always exist in some form. Their powers wax and their powers wane at different times and in different places. Here the power of the Dark is strong, perhaps as strong as it could possibly be without completely overrunning us. And yet, here we stand. Even here the Light is at work, holding back the dark tides. The defensive line is thin, yes, and yes it wavers from time to time but still it holds."

The man leaned forward, resting his rough hand on Andre's own. "Take heart in that and hold fast to it. The Light can never be extinguished while the hearts of men like you believe in what is right and just." He said with quiet fervor.

Andre nodded, his face pinched. "I will consider what you have said." He replied wearily before easing himself out of the chair and departing the room, leaving the priest in wavering half light, the man's eyes following after him in concern.

Making his way back up the stairs the Knight looked up once more at the symbol on the wall, his eyes growing cold with derision. "It is a weak god that needs men to prop it up, whose influence is so inconstant and whose power can be so easily undermined. Either you allowed this darkness to manifest or you were powerless to stop it. Neither speaks well of you. Still, I have sworn to serve you and I shall hold true to my oath. Andre Bertrand is many things but an oathbreaker is not one of them."

Turning his back on the Light's icon he made his way back to the church's entrance, a dark cloud hanging over him.

* * *

The carriage slowly rolled into town with Williams at the helm, stopping near where Francine was waiting.

"Any problems Williams?" She called out to the crazy servant.

"No! No! None at all!" He replied gleefully as he got down from the driver's box, a slightly unhinged smile on his face. "Easy it was, very easy! For the other deliveries too! Ahh to have clean and safe roads again!" He said happily as he opened the door of the carriage, allowing Hannah to step out.

"Welcome back!" Francine called out as she stepped over to the carriage.

"Oh yes, welcome back to the biggest shithole this side of darkest Africa." Hannah groused as she yanked her large valise from the seat. "I only just got all the grime off me after taking a bath every day in London and now here I am back again. What joy."

Francine smirked at the raven haired woman's dour tone. "Well of course, I mean you are in the center of the biggest research opportunity in probably a few centuries. What's not to love? Think of all the books and research monographs you'll be able to publish. Who knows, in the years to come the Church might even make you the patron saint of medicine and research given your role here."

"There is that one redeeming feature I suppose." Hannah sighed as Williams took her bag. Turning to the man she poked his nose with her finger. "I've had to endure your inane and pointless prattle all the way from London you daft man-child so don't get all gushy about reunions, how wonderful the ride was, or any other pointless nonsense that's wanting to emerge from that hole you call a mouth, understand?".

Williams blinked in surprise at the order as well as the poke before nodding his head vigorously with a grin.

"Thank goodness, peace and quiet at last." She muttered irritably. "Just take this to my room will you?" She prompted him.

The man nodded silently once more before running off.

"Really Hannah you need to loosen up a bit. I find the man to be adorable and sweet." Francine said lightly.

Hannah snorted as they began walking towards the town. "Please! You find everything adorable and sweet. I've never heard you speak a bad word about anyone!"

"Which shows my talent for tact as well as my sunny disposition." The other Plague Doctor replied airily. "Both of which you could benefit from." She suggested with an impish smile.

"So you've said many a time." The other woman replied flatly with a glare. "And since you insist on repeating yourself I suppose I'll have to repeat what I've said every time before this: I will speak my mind plainly and if the other person can't deal with it then that is their problem to deal with. I have no time for blubbering idiots who need to be pandered to."

"As pleases you." Francine sighed good-naturedly. "Moving on to other things how was your vacation in London?"

"Hardly a vacation." Hannah replied derisively. "I spent my days orchestrating the moving of various reagents and potions from my laboratory to this place, making sure everything was packed properly and delivered safely. My evenings I spent updating all of my journals and notes on what had transpired as well as improving my formulas for my plague grenades and a few other elixirs."

"So you have something new for us?" Francine asked as they approached the stubby tower where Bellecoat had set up shop.

"I believe I can cook up a somewhat more potent version of my plague solution at least." The woman replied. "I also had the chance to catch up with some of my colleagues regarding the latest psycho-therapeutic practices and medications. Considering some of the crazy things we've all seen I fully expect some of these people to start having mental breakdowns or coming back with odd diseases. When that happens we need to be ready to treat them and quickly."

"I had all of the equipment moved into your tower. I must say it's getting rather cramped." Francine suggested as they stepped through the door.

Hannah looked about at the large number of lockboxes and tall cases spread out in the main room as well as the side chambers that had once been jail cells. "Well I certainly can't disagree with that assessment." The woman muttered. "This is going to be quite the mess. If I had more room…"

"Perhaps we should speak with Lord Ezekiel about this?" Francine suggested. "He is quite the reasonable sort and there is another tower nearby that the men have been working to make livable."

Hannah nodded. "Makes sense. In fact, why not see him now? No point in waiting."

The other woman nodded. "I'll come with you, help get you up to speed on what's been going on."

"I seriously doubt anything of true note has happened." Hannah replied diffidently.

"Well I'd say that professor you contacted having arrived was news." Francine offered.

Hannah glanced over at her. "You mean Al'Bin actually showed up? I'm impressed. He's barely left his office since taking up that post last year. He practically clings to that desk and chair as if someone else was going to kick him out of it. I wasn't sure if he'd come to be honest."

"Well he's here along with a few other new people." Francine assured her. "Another Crusader from St. George by the name of Andre and an old neighbor of Lord Ezekiel's, a man named Mortimer and his hound."

"Dogs, wonderful." Hannah said with a shake of her head. "Probably be jumping all over my lab equipment and breaking things."

"Well he seems to have it well under control so I don't think you'll need to worry about that." Francine said with a smile. "Andre is rather...well he puts on airs I guess you could say."

"Splendid." Hannah said cheerlessly. "That's as close to an insult as I've ever heard you say. The man must be insufferable if that's the case." She suggested before an anticipatory smile creased her face.

"I know that look." Francine said reproachfully. "You're just waiting for the chance to tear into him and knock him down a few pegs, aren't you?"

"You know me too well." The Plague Doctor said with quiet relish as they approached the manor house in the middle of town.

Entering the pair made their way through the main foyer and upstairs to the main office where Charles could usually be found. Knocking on his door he bade them enter a moment later.

As they entered they found Charles seated behind his desk with a sheaf of papers before him along with a sack of gold and several deeds. The young man smiled upon seeing Hannah.

"Ah, Doctor Bellecoat! Splendid to have you back, your presence has been sorely missed by all." He said with a smile.

Hannah snorted with a smirk on her face. "Please, spare me such nonsense. I'm sure everyone was relieved to be rid of me for a while."

Shaking his head in amusement the man bade them sit. "From the deliveries that have been arriving in the last few days I presume your trip to London was successful?" He asked.

"Eminently so." Hannah agreed. "I understand we have some new arrivals including Al'Bin."

Charles nodded. "Indeed. The new members of our band have already proven helpful in clearing the main road of bandits."

"I did notice that the last leg of the journey was much more peaceful than usual, Williams' ceaseless prattling notwithstanding." Bellecoat remarked. "Good to know they have some use. I came here this evening as I wanted to ask for permission to use the tower near my makeshift apothecary for more advanced healing remedies. The equipment I had sent will not easily fit in the space I have now."

"You're referring to the larger tower we've been renovating recently?" He asked for clarification.

Hannah nodded. "Correct."

"I suppose that would be fine." Charles mused, resting his chin on his fist. "We hadn't actually given the space to anyone just yet. Apparently the tower was being used to incarcerate people that were rather more violent or perhaps needed to be out of the public eye. There are several cells with iron doors and a few of the rooms have tables with straps." He told her.

"Long term incarceration and possibly torture." Hannah mused before smirking. "Sounds perfect. For what I have in mind this should do well."

Charles raised an eyebrow in concern upon hearing this. "And what exactly do you have planned Dr. Bellecoat?"

"Not whatever you're thinking of, I can assure you." The woman retorted. "Given the pressure everyone here is under we may need to use those cells and tables for various treatment options soon. The sooner I can get the place up and running the better."

Charles nodded. "Very well then. You may begin moving your equipment into the new tower. It should be fixed up enough by now to be serviceable."

Hannah nodded before leaving the room with Francine following after her. As they made their way down the road they found Reynauld coming the opposite way. Spotting them, he hailed them.

"Miss Bellecoat! Welcome back!"

Hannah inclined her head at this. "Winters. I wonder if I might borrow you for a bit?"

The man gazed at her curiously. "Certainly. For what end, might I ask?"

"I have some rather large boxes that need to be moved from my apothecary to the nearby tower that was recently renovated. You seem to be healthy enough to assist with that."

Reynauld smiled at this. "I suppose I could help. My legs are doing much better at this point and they could use a bit of light exercise to strengthen them."

"Splendid." Hannah said dryly. "Come along then boy, help me with my luggage." She said imperiously with a gesture.

Shaking his head in amusement the man followed after her. They spent the next few hours moving boxes to the new tower while Hannah managed to get one of the iron cell doors unstuck and working again before directing them where to put the various boxes and containers. Finally they retired to the tavern for a meal before heading off to bed.

* * *

 _The next morning…_

"What do you mean you're leaving?" Reynauld asked in disbelief as Gerri sat with him and a few of the others at the breakfast table.

"Don't worry I plan to return but for the moment I must go where the Light leads me." She explained earnestly.

"What do you mean 'where the Light leads you'?" Francine asked.

"While I prayed last night for guidance and strength I beheld a vision of a being dressed in white who had an aura of brilliance the likes of which I had never seen." Gerri explained excitedly. "Its voice was like thunder and it told me that I was to go minister to others nearby."

"Twill be quite a ways Lassie." Mortimer said, taking a sip of his black coffee. "Ah live miles away from this place and most others round here have miles of farmland. Would take several days walkin' to reach just one."

Gerri nodded. "I realize the distance but I must make the effort. I cannot deny the Light's will for me in this."

"Well if you have to go you have to go but that does leave us with only one healer." Francine sighed. "Make sure you let Lord Ezekiel know about this."

Gerri nodded. "I intend to. I shall start out today. Hopefully I will not be gone too long."

"We'll miss you Lassie." Mortimer said.

The Vestal smiled at this. "Thank you Mr. MacDonald. If you'll excuse me I need to pack."

Standing up she nodded to them before retiring to her room.

"Sounds more like she got into some of Hannah's stores of hallucinogens." Francine muttered.

The Houndmaster shook his head. "Ye shouldn't insult the Light so Lass. Ah'm not a religious man meself but we've all seen the power yon Crusaders and Vestal use. Tis no flight o' fancy if Ah'm any judge."

"Maybe." Francine shrugged with a sigh. "All I know is Jacques is going to have to do most of the patching up until she gets back.. _If_ she comes back."

"The Lass is loyal, she'll be back." The man said with certainty.

Finishing the last of her breakfast the woman stood and bade Mortimer goodbye before leaving the tavern and walking down the road to the guild hall where Thomas the guildmaster was supervising training for the others. As she strode into the main practice area she found most of the company there, practicing various arts. Off to one side Reynauld and Andre were having a discussion regarding a piece of parchment Reynauld was holding in his hands, the edges appearing to glow faintly. Nearby she saw Dismas attacking a target dummy with his knife, slashing at its throat and stabbing it where its kidneys would be were it a real person. Thomas himself was supervising Jonas as he watched the man swing his executioner's blade, occasionally correcting his body movements or the placement of his hands upon the hilt to make his strikes more powerful as well as teaching him to attack two of the training dummies with a single swing. As she wandered closer to the two Crusaders she could hear Winters explaining something to Andre.

"...its ways are mysterious of course but so long as you have the faith and strength of will to believe that the divinely imbued parchment can inflict damage upon our foes then it will do so."

"But will it work on mundane enemies like the bandits we encountered?" Andre asked. "Surely they are not true works of evil unlike those slime creatures." He reasoned.

"Yet they do evil and work against the Light by their presence and continued efforts here. The Scripture's power will affect them also. Not to the same extent to be sure but it will still cause harm. Now then, take hold of the parchment and display it like so while focusing on..."

Francine moved away and continued to watch with interest as the rest of the group practiced for a few hours. The two Crusaders soon moved on to more martial practice with Andre taking on Thomas in a sword duel while Reynaulds began working with Jonas. Vaguely curious as to their conversation the woman moved a bit closer.

"...surely the Light abandoned me long ago." Jonas was saying to Reynaulds. "How can I possibly use its power?"

"The Light abandons no one." Reynaulds assured him with quiet confidence. "That is not to say that we do not have trials of our own to face, some greater than others. Yet even still the Light provides aid to those who need it. The Prayer of Solemnity is known to give healing and strength to those in dire straits. You speak it thusly: Lux det mihi sanitatem et auxilium a malo…"

* * *

 _Later on_

 _Elsewhere…_

He floated in the aether as he had done on occasions prior, his mind detached from his body. Freed from the bounds of muscle and matter he was able to move about as he saw fit, unrestrained by the laws of nature men of science touted so highly. In time he would surpass them all but even he was well aware of the fickleness of the powers he courted so carefully. All men were but amusements for the dark powers that roamed between the unending vastness of night between the stars and he was no exception. An amusing bit player on the world's stage he might be, but even his entertainment would grow stale in time.

What the dark powers would do to him then he dared not ruminate on as that led to trembling and nightmares.

Floating about in the vast inky sea of the void a shape began to form before him. Debasing himself immediately he planted his face firmly downward, unwilling to even entertain the slightest thought of looking upon his patron for to do so was to invite a swift and messy death, and that was if the Ancient One was feeling particularly merciful at that moment.

Putrid, oily miasma began to seep into his thoughts as the being before him began to confine itself to a singular chaotic form, its mere presence enough to taint the mental and physical reality around it through multiple dimensions and spaces man had not even considered in its darkest dreams. As the creature's influence spread the stars began to wink out, consumed and subsumed by the spreading foulness. Opening a maw that a madman might consider a mouth, it spoke in a terrible, fell voice that echoed across the vast vista of space-time, making his mind shiver in revulsion.

W̼̖̪̖̗̳̖͊ͨ͛Ḫ̨̨̻̣̍̉̑͐̉͊̒Y̵̠̮͚̙̮͙̭̍̌ ̶̵̞͚͈͔̖̖̤ͨ͗̅ͪ̇̀͛ͥͬD̪̘͉͗ͭ͢O̥̰̩͈͋̉ͪͭͯ̍̽͘͟͞ ̑̓͐͆̑́҉̨̩͙͍̜ͅY̴̩͕̩̱̼ͥ̊̉ͩ̈́ͩͅͅŐ̴̢̖̐ͮͨ͋͌͜ͅU͋͊ͧ̋ͦ͢͏̨͖͔͚͎̹͈̜̬̜ ͖̬̉͗̽͌͛́̀C̵̨͉̰̫̜͈̩̳͛̈͐͑̒ͫͩ̚͞O̟͖̺̼̟̥̖ͫ̑͊̊̓ͨ͑ͥ̃̕͢M̸̱̦̰͈̤͚̺͇̾ͬͭ̍E̢̤̲̲̮̫̠͊͐ͤ̈̋͐̄ͪ͌ ̶͔͓̄ͫ̑̄̀͘B̜̻̤͓̎̀̚͢ͅĒ͉̰̼̙͒͠F̷̖͉̟̳̱͓͕̮͒̀O̵̪̲̹͔͎̫ͥ͑͝R̵̭̻͕̉ͤ͊͆E̱̬̞ͪ͟ ̡̛̘̯̠̘̱̇ͩ͋̐́̉M̢̯̖̩ͪͬ͘Ě̤̚ ̭́̕W͓͙̠̃ͪ̕͟O̬͔͇̤̱ͥ́̈́ͣ̾̚ͅR̟̱̞͓̠̲̪͒̔͌̔̅̎̀̚M̮͈̺̪̯͛̿ͦ?̴̧̣͓͖̦̻̗͐̐͗̽͑̈̐̕

Swallowing, he spoke softly with reverence and fear. "Great One, forgive this worm for his intrusion but I seek your wisdom and power."

A͍̰̟̿̕͟͞N̴̴̨̻̻̮̹̣̦̪̽͂̓ͅD̶̡̥͕͙̺̝̦̝̘̑ͫͣ͜ ̧̠͎͇͉̣̰͓͊̌̀̎̄̑ͮ̉̕Ẅ̧̗͚́̌ͧ͐̆H͉̞̞͖ͩͦ̆̄ͮ͂͝A̵̡̳̬͍̲ͤ̓̃͛͂̆̒͟T̡̙̦̤̯͓̹̝ͩ̏̅̓ͦͨ̂ ̥̪̦͓͈͉̆̃ͣ̈́̀̚P͍͉̭͇̤̞̩̽ͮ̀ͦͯ͑̃̍̓͞Ơ̞̱ͭ͂͢͡W̶̼̒ͥ͛̚͠E̶̻͔̣ͭͮ͆ͪ̌R͌̍͂̆ͪ̋҉̷̗̖ ̵͓̬̣̖͈̄̍̇̋͒̔ͯ͡M̸̙͇̯̜̳͓͑̆ͬ̆ͥ̆͛̍͒͟Iͣ̉͂ͯ̎ͮ̈́͞҉̦̘̯̮ͅG̖͉̍̅̄̍ͮ̏H̷̯̃ͣ͞ͅT̺̞͉͍̜͓͚̏̀̽͗ͦ́̅̽ ̶̛̲͙̦̙̭̒̑͝Ť̸̷̠͕͂̐̌͐́̓̅H̡͉͔̓̊Ȧͬ̔͛̈́͑͊͐͏̛̞͓̖T̲̯̥͙̥͋̄̈́͢ ̈̏̊̈́̒̽̑̚͜͏̴̭͔͕̣̺͚̼̱B̑̉ͯ͌͌ͯͭ͋͏̩͇Ḛ͕͎̮̰̤͈̜̫̍͌̂̅̚,̼͈̣͍̖̉̇̃ ͖̝̹̩͙̫̠̪̈͋̈͌Į̟̦̞̬̠͚̜̆̓́́N̵̴͚̪̙ͪ͊̈ͥͪ̕S̷̸̟͖̊̊̃ͪͯE̹̗̜ͫ̉̀͝C̱̣͉̪̖̪̳͋ͣ̈̉̑T̬̑̀͜?̢̛͙̪̥̦̠̪̠͚͊͂̽ͪ̔̎ͫ̄̚͜

Shivering at the creature's terrible gaze, he spoke again. "I would ask of you greater power to heal those whom you choose worthy of such an honor."

A̶͎̯̳͈̟͇͒̍͒ͧ̇ͥ̂N̮̯̪̲̬ͭͣͫ̓ͮ̊D̷̡̦̰͇̱̊̄ͮͤ̀̅ͪͭ͊ ̬̗̟̰͙̦͗̌̏̔̀ͅW̬̮͔̱͕̞̒̅ͯ̍͋̽̓̒͡H̵̞̺̉ͨ̉̃Y̷̱͉̥̳̟̟̩̩ͫ̓͞ ̸̶̨̻̗̖ͬ̅̚ͅS̸̰̱̝̘̯̜̥̯̾ͥ̀̕H̴̪̤̯̱̊ͥͥ̅͑̎̍͜͝O̩̼͔̰̖̗̎ͣ̎͂͌̀̚͟͢U̬̰͙̻̜͔͕̠ͦ͒͗ͤ͋͐̚͟͜L̵̛̛̖̖̘̹͉̱͙͈ͦͭ͐͆D̵̗͓̍ ͚͓̲ͯ͊̇ͯ͘̕I̡̛̻̺̠̳̝̜͇̻ͤ̔̍ͧͥ̃̌̿ ̶̡̯͓̗̥̅̃͗̚̕Ǧ̵̈́ͤͪ͆͟ͅR͙̮͉̱͖̬̱̓̎̊̎̍͞A̩̟͔͓̥ͫ̉͛̈̃N̨͖͉̜̆ͤ̔̅ͭ͊́T̸͎͔͓͈͒ͫ͢ ̛̖̖̼̆̉͐ͯ́̑͆̊͡Yͨ̈̉͂҉͎̘̖̮̮̤̜Ǫ̠̫̾̐͊͘̕Ư̶̫͔̥̼̳̦͓̩̆̀̂ͪͪ̍̚͞ ̜̟͍͉̗͙ͮ͊͛ͤ͜͝ͅT͈̫̩̖̫̦̟̈́̍̍͋ͯ̃̚Ḧ̸̱̟̱͓́ͦ̄͢͟Ï̠̣͉̠̝͍͕̝̋̊Ŝ̬͍ͨ̎͆̿͘͢ ̮͎̏̏̎̿̎ͭ̉͢͠͠ͅM̩̺ͥͮ̏ͥ͛̎ͥ̋O̵̟͚͎̩͉̙̘̲̲̓ͪ̎Rͯ҉̴͚̝̲̳͞S̹̳ͪ̄̎ͤ̎ͮ͊͟Ẻ̳̝̪̲̲̈́̐ͬ̾͑̏͜ͅL̢ͩ̊ͬ̄ͣ҉͔̝̹̟̩̖͈ ͕͌̓͌́Ó̺̦̃̋ͮ̅́̀F̰̭̟̩̩͕̟̬̏̍͒̔͂̇̽́͟ ̧͍̜͈̺̙̰̙ͥ͊̑̒̈ͬ̏ͫͅM̴̢̛̳̙̼̞̼̖̞̓͂ͥ͊Y̶̘̞͎̠̓ ̣͕̮̤̜̩̙͚̑͗̐̓ͨ̋̌̂́̀Pͦ͛ͨͧ͌̌̒̚͏͎͖̪̹̠̘̯͖̕O͎͚͇̲͕̬ͨͤͮ̔ͤ̿ͭͬ̀̚͘ͅW̟͇͕͉̊E̶͂̎ͩ̊҉̻͇R̨̳̥̤̰̺̦̖̠ͫ͂͗̏̓ͫ́,̧̦̹͔͖̤͛̉ͥ̔̂ͮ̌́ ̢̛̗̹̳ͯ͆̄̏Y͚͚ͦ̎̾͊̉͟O͔̮͎̘̣̝̥͈̍ͫͩ̅͆̒̚U͙͚͙ͯͩ̐̋̄̔ ̧̞͎̥͍ͥͫ̓͛ͤ̄̎ͫ͟͠ͅͅP̟̯̟͕̳͋̒̎̋ͬ̚Ą̗̦͓̹̥̱̝̩̄ͦ͡͠ͅT͕̥͉͋͑̀͊̋H̴̢͕̝̠̭̰̪̜̰̄ͦ̄͆̎ͅE̢̬̩̞͉̼͙͚̋T̺͓̺̝̪ͤ̎̽ͭ̓͝Į̮͚̱͈ͤ̂̋̇̏͆Ĉ̨̤̮̭ͫͧ͌͋ͭ̚̕͡ ̅ͪ͑ͬ̔̿̇͏̵̼ͅͅV̨̱̯͖͍̣̦̌ͨ̉̿̐͌͒͞A̵̺̮̘̹͙̲̭̾̀̃̐͆̏̓P̱̘̬̙̖͐̈́̀Ȯ̝̹̠̙̮ͫͦͩ́̊ͤ̽R̺̮͎͇̲̰ͭ͛̀̀͜?̛̬͉̍̋ͣ̂̚

"As always I and all that walk upon the Earth exist for your amusement, Great One. Vapors and mist we may be but would you see the grand play of Man falter and fade so soon?"

The creature appeared to consider his servant's request, its potent gaze lessening somewhat for a few moments as a foetid claw scrapped against unnatural flesh.

V̋ͪͫ̓ͪ̇ER̔̈Yͣ͊ͭ̇̽ ̆ͯ̾͂ͨ̌WͧËͮ̾ͣ͋L̎̌L.ͤ̆̔ ̚ ̿ͨ̓͐̌̚Í̀̆̓͌̔ ͒͑ͭ͐ͨ̈S̄͊̾H͗ͮͣ̌̄ͮ̔A̓͂ͣ̈̓̚L͐ͬ́L̃ Ḡ͑͛ͫRͮA͂̊NT̿ͭͭ͂̊ͯͮ ̔ͩ̈́̄̃Y͂̎͛͐̉OU̎ Tͯͥ̆ͮ̉H̾̾ͨ́̈́Iͫ̍S̈́͛̍͛ͣ ̌͌͊̄̓BOO̅̿͌͌ͮ͑̚N͌̂ͬ͛͑̚̚.̍̎̅̋͑̚ ͤͦ̓́̾ Bͮ͛U͒̓ͧ̓̓ͣŤͭ ͭ͆̽ͦ̄D̄͛ͥ̆̉̚Oͣ͂ͧͤͫ ͐̐̌N̉͆̚OṪ̎̆̉ͭ̐ ̽ͪ̽͒F͐̌̓̾O͋͊Rͭ̇ͫ̏͂̔̐ ͊ͦ̌̃Ã̌͋ ͧ͒M̽̅O͛̽ͣME͌ͧ̊ͤ̏̽̾N̄ͧ̏̀ͥͮ̈́Tͭͫͬͯͣ̊̌ Fͭ͒̏ORͬ̄̓G̉ͬͭEͩT Y̾͑̔̐ͥOͯ̓Ǘ̉ͮ͌R̽ͦ̄͋ͮ͂̿ ̓P͆̑ͨͥ̌ͦLͫͦ̂͆̋A͋̓ͥ̈͒̑͂C̊̓ͧ͑̓̓E.̄̒ ͩ̊ ̆ͣ͐̀̃̑̚Ÿ́̀̿́́̐̂Oͧͤͧ̔̓̒̅U͆̄̇͆̃̌ ͒͆̌̄̌A̾͑͊͊͋͊̚RE͒́ ͂̓ͫͧ͋M̏̌͐Yͩ PLͮ͗ͧAYͩ̈́͆ͧ̅ͪ̐TͪHͤ̄͆ͪ͑̇̒Í͆͛̋͌̅Ṅ̈ͣͨ̓ͨG͑̾S͐̄̾ͬͯ,ͥ̂̋͒̽ ̾͐̍̃NͣÓTͯ͐HͨĨ͗̓ͧͬ͑NG̓́̾̆ ͊̓͐̂͒̏͛M̓̑̋̏O̾Rͬ̂̃̃Eͦͫ͂̅̎̓͗ ͩA̋͐ͣͮ̽N̈́͑̂͒͌Dͧ̍ͦ ͣIͧ̄̌ ͋ͬ͒WI͊̑L͌ͨ͐̽ͩ́̌Ĺ̋̇ͩ̓ ͪ̾D͒ͨISͪͣP̄ͥ̈̎Ȇͭ̀̇̒N̒́ͨ͒̍̇̄S̐̽̊̓̅E͗̅̚ ̈́̑̅MYͨ͆̂ͤ ͌̌ͭP̿̈́ͫ͐͛ͭO̒̅̑̇WͧͣË́ͥ̏͊R̾ͭͬ̅ͤ̚ HͦO̽̏̎ͫW̊̿ͣ̚ ̈ͥA̒͛̿͌Nͩ̍̒ͣͥD̃ͬ ͬͯ̍̐̀WHÊ̑N̾͌ͨ ͣ̆ͦͪ̈ͭI͛͒ͤ̓̊̈ͮ ͮ̔ͯ͐̌Sͦͫ́̈ͥE̓E̊ ̏̐͂ͦ̐̀ͩF́͆̏ͣÍ̍ͯT̈ͨͮ́͊̈ͭ.͗̇ͮ̃͌ͯ͊ ̑͊̀ ͪ̍

The man gasped as he felt new knowledge and power flow into him. Foul and debase words he had never heard before were burned into his mind like a red-hot branding iron, forever etched into his consciousness.

"Thank you Great One!" He said in a choking voice as his mind struggled to comprehend the alien concepts surging through his brain.

B͇͈̳̯͌͒ͤͪ͊ͨͅE̹͚̙͓͚̹̭ͣ̏̀͛̊ͪ̔G̪̩͈̠̊͌̏ͨ̌Ȯ̦̦͉̜̙ͦ͌ͧ͑NE̺̻͚ͩ ͉̔W̭͖̪̩̳͐Oͤ̀͒ͨ̍̚R̘̰̜ͩͩṂ͕̆̄̐̈̇͐,̠̘̫̳̄͋ͅ ͋ͨͣM̝͚͋Y̱̺͈͙ͯ̃ ̗̾̂ͫ̚Ḯ͈͚̝͎͙̖͋͆̑ͯ̾N͖͓̟̫̒́̚T͚͎̻E̮̘̮̬R̹̬̻̻̞ͯ̒͗͐̑̆̚Ě̱͎͇̗ͧ̉́ͤ́̈́S̀ͪ̏̌͆ͅT͍̘̯ͯ͑̿̏ͧ̈ͭ ̗͚͍I̮ͤ̃̑Nͩ̂̏͒̿ ͉͓͇͍̳̽͋̒̀̆̾̚T̮̘̭͈͔̩ͧH͚͈͊ͮͦ̔̐̽Ĭ̭͍͙̪͖ͬ̈́ͯ̃̃ͤS̥͍̤͎̙͂̏͑ͤͅͅ ͕̯̺̮̝̹̭͌ͯẸ̬̾̇̆ͪ̂ͦͤXͩ̒ͪ̉CͬH͙̠̳̳͖̎̆ͪͅA̰̞͖͎͙͋̆ͥͧͫ̎N̝̲̭̘̯͛̄̉ͭ̃̈G̺̪̞̥̻͖̰͋E͓̝͈͔̬̤ͤ̅͆̇̑ ̟̼ͯͩ͋̀ͧW͔̤̿̓ͣA̐ͦ̎ͩN͇͔̪̖̼͙̽Ĕ̺͊ͫͨ̈́S̩̻̮ͣ̊̋̈́̆.̥̫ͭͭ̉ͣ̈́

Needing no further prompting he yanked himself across the void towards the comforting reality of bone and flesh. Merging his spirit with his body with practiced ease, Al'Bin opened bloodshot eyes, his body taut and quivering with unconscious fear and loathing, the nearby window showing the sun setting below the trees of the forest. Forcing his limbs to submit to his will the man stood stiffly and stretched before washing his sweat-drenched face, the bloodshot receding from his eyes as normalcy asserted itself once more.

* * *

A carriage rattled its way into the town a short time later as night fell over the land, the driver's eyes apprehensive and mistrustful of his surroundings. One of the townspeople, noticing the arrival quickly went and fetched Charles who came out to greet it a few minutes later. Standing next to the carriage, getting their luggage and boxes down with the help of the hapless driver, was an older man with slicked back grey hair and a full white beard. His body was broad and bore faint scars hinting at a life filled with roughness, dressed in a plain white shirt and brown pants while his companion was a woman with dark skin, her black hair tied back in a bun, herself also wearing a loose tunic of olive and pants of earthy colors.

"Good afternoon Lady and Gentleman." Charles called over to them as he approached. "I am Charles Ezekiel, the local Lord. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

"Good evening young man." The older man said in a grizzled voice as he shook Charles's hand firmly, his grip strong. "Major Ernest Hobert and Cadet Edith Francis at your service."

"Indeed?" Charles asked. "I suppose you came here due to the ads I placed in London?"

"You are correct good sir." Ernest replied as Edith sat down the last of the crates. "We find ourselves in need of consistent employment and this affair sounded appropriate given our backgrounds, and so we have come."

Noting their bearing and titles Charles nodded. "You were both in the military I take it?"

"I've served as Her Majesty Victoria's sword arm nigh on forty years now." He told Charles. "I've bloodied men and led them in my time. Edith has been at my side for several years now since I took her under my wing, started towards the end of my last campaign. Sadly those young bucks who run Her Majesty's forces now think me too old and set in my ways to serve any longer. Honorable discharge and medals aplenty but I've no need for such trifles as those." He grumbled.

"My life is on the battlefield and that is where I intend to meet my end, not wasting away in some poor house, forgotten." He stated firmly, a hard look in his eye.

Charles smiled thinly. "Fear not Major for you will find battle aplenty here. Perhaps more than you might expect."

The man chuckled darkly at this. "Bring them on." He invited with quiet fierceness.

Charles nodded at the man's strength as Edith stepped forward. "Edith Francis."

Charles met the woman's strong grip with his own. "A pleasure."

A moment later Williams approached from nearby, having seen the carriage from his house.

"Ah master! Who do we have here? New friends? Yes? Splendid!" Williams said, clapping his hands in excitement as the new arrivals looked at him in bewilderment. "New faces! New faces, what fun! White haired man and a dark lady! Lovely compliment to each other, yes!" He laughed easily.

"Who in the blazes are you?" Edith asked with a hint of alarm.

"Williams! Williams my good lady!" The unhinged man cried happily. "Caretaker of this place and servant to my good Lord Charles I am! Come, come, let me take your bags! Long travel you've had, yes, and long windy roads! Thankfully no bandits though! Hehe! Yes no bandits, cleared them out we did, oh yes! The ruffians!" He snarled playfully before picking up some of their bags and trotting off to the inn.

Ernest and Edith looked at the departing man's back for a moment before looking over at Charles, their faces full of confusion.

"I'm afraid you must forgive poor Williams." Charles said with a amused sigh. "This place has been a ruin for many years and it has taken its toll on him as he was the servant of my grandfather when I was a young man. To see the place fall into ruin and the horrors that came with it...well, it would be enough to break any man. Thankfully he's quite harmless, just rather off in the head."

"So it seems." Ernest said doubtfully. "Cheerful fellow though, I have to say, considering this place." He said, looking about. "Forgive me for saying so my Lord but I've seen smoking ruins that looked better."

Charles nodded as he guided them towards the inn, the pair walking alongside him. "Sadly the horrors visited upon my Grandfather's estate did not pass with his death. Indeed they remain and continue to corrupt the land. Make no mistake Major, you stand on the outskirts of enemy territory and we have no defense should they decide to rise up against us. We have been fortunate thus far to have the help of the Order of St. George as well as other capable men and women but so far we have made merely a dent. Still, day by day more of the hamlet is repaired and the fiends are driven back inch by inch."

Ernest nodded thoughtfully as Ezekiel spoke. "You speak of horrors and fiends. Describe our enemy if you would. I would know their strengths and weaknesses."

"The others can tell you much more, having been on the front lines, as it were." Charles replied as they reached the inn, the man opening the door for them. The pair stepped into the inviting light of the tavern and were greeted by everyone stopping what they were doing to look up at the new arrivals. Charles stepped around them a moment later.

"Allow me to introduce our latest arrivals, Major Ernest Hobert of Her Majesty's armed forces, retired, and his aide-de-camp Cadet Edith Francis. Please help them feel welcome." He said.

A moment later Winters stood and walked over to them, his hand outstretched. "Sir and Lady, I bid you welcome to our home. In the name of the Light, welcome!"

Ernest and Edith shook the man's hand. "St. George I suppose?" Ernest asked, having recalled Charles' words.

"Indeed." Reynauld replied with an easy smile. "Tis good to have another campaigner here. I hope you brought your arms and armor with you."

"Indeed I have, and my cunning as well." Ernest replied. "I plan to make good use of all three."

"We'll see how well he does after he faces down his first pack of giant spiders." Bellecoat said with dark amusement, standing near the bar with her arms folded across her chest. "Hope you don't have a weak heart old man or you won't last a week here."

Ernest looked over at Hannah with a stern gaze as Reynaulds attempted to apologize for her gruff nature.

"Quiet your tongue, lad, I didn't come here for easy work." Ernest said to him before focusing back on Hannah. "Giant spiders and undead you say. Tell me of them. What do we face here?"

"All manner of horrors from men with skull masks and blades to creatures out of nightmare." Hannah replied flatly. "I myself have fought animated skeletons wielding clubs and swords, spiders larger than dogs with venom strong enough to kill a man, and the others here have apparently see worse out in the woods. Slime creatures of some description from what they've said."

Edith looked about at the grim and weathered faces gazing at them. "I think they're telling the truth Ernest." She suggested quietly.

Looking about himself the man nodded. "So it would seem. We appear to have found a place of true battle here."

"Indeed." Said Charles. "But there will be plenty of horror to go around in the days to come. For now, join us. Eat, drink, and get to know your new comrades. The food here is quite excellent." He suggested.

The pair nodded with Ernest sitting down with Reynaulds, Dismas, and Jonas while Edith sat with Francine, Mortimer, and Al'Bin. The groups spoke long into the evening about who they were and their trials since arriving and Ernest regaled them with some of his more interesting war stories. In time they all retired, the moon watching over them all as the night deepened around them.

* * *

A\N: Four months is quite the wait for a chapter and I apologize for that. Sadly life and work have been busy up until the last month or two so I've been slowly getting back up to speed. The Man-at-Arms is introduced as well as the Arbalest and we get a glimpse of the powers our good Occultist cavorts with. The next chapter should contain more action.


	11. Purification

Chapter 10: Purification

Charles wandered through the dimly lit halls of the Lord's house, the lanterns barely lighting the hallway as the night grew darker outside the occasional window he passed by. He felt as though he had been walking down the same hallways for hours never arriving at a door, never making progress. But now, finally, the endless hallway had ended in a doorway. He rested his hand, pausing at the door frame, the Lord's study beyond. Unlatching the door and pushing it open slowly with a creak he gazed into the nearly dark room beyond. The moonlight shone through a nearby window on the left, creating a strip of blue light across the front of the room. Beyond the demarcation between light and dark sat the stacks of ancient tomes and papers that made up the library beyond. In front of the stacks sat a pair of soft leather armchairs with a small reading table between them.

In one of the chairs sat an imposing figure, partially concealed by the shadows.

Charles drew back slightly in fear at seeing the mysterious man before peering carefully at the still seated figure. The man's features were hidden by the darkness but as Charles focused, his stance wary, he could see a sharp pair of eyes and a face covered by a trim beard. The figure's right arm, one of the few parts illuminated dimly by the moonlight, was covered in a nobleman's coat of bright crimson with gold tassels, a design he knew quite well.

"G-grandfather?" He asked softly in disbelief.

The figure merely regarded him with grim silence.

"Grandfather? It is you, isn't it?" He asked hesitantly, stepping closer.

The figure seemed to sigh softly. "I was Lord of this place once, before the crows and rats made it their domain." He said in a mournful, timbred voice.

"Grandfather it is you!" Charles exclaimed before hurrying to the chair and kneeling before the older man. "I received your letter! I came to the hamlet like you asked!"

"You answered the letter." The older man said in a strange tone as he peered at Charles. "Now, like me, you are a part of this place." He leaned forward slightly, revealing more of his wrinkled, tired face, his eyes sunken and despondent. "My obsession caused this great foulness and it is shameful that I must now rely upon you to set it right."

Charles's eyes pricked with tears to hear such shame and brokenness in the man's voice, so unlike and incongruous with his childhood memories of the man's robust and stern intonations.

"It will be alright Grandfather!" Charles assured him with quiet conviction. "I will put right what happened here. Already the hamlet is being rebuilt, the buildings sturdy once again!"

The man sighed again. "The degeneracy of the hamlet is nothing, I fear, compared to the condition of the surrounding acres."

Charles nodded. "The infestation of the woods, the men have reported it to me. Rest assured we shall burn out that evil!"

"Your men?" He asked, a spark of interest appearing in his eyes. "You brought others with you?"

Charles nodded. "A Crusader from the Order of St. George and a reformed highwayman, yes. They were the first."

The older man nodded, his face seemingly thoughtful. "A mighty sword-arm anchored by a holy purpose. A zealous warrior to be sure. As for the other...elusive, evasive, and persistent. Righteous traits for a rogue."

Charles nodded. "Indeed they are. Over the weeks others have joined as well. We have a small company of them now. The roads are beginning to clear and the ruins of the cathedral are being cleansed."

The man nodded, settling back into his chair. "You have done well so far, Charles. I am...proud of you, shouldering such a heavy burden without hesitation or regret."

"Tell me what happened, Grandfather, please!" Charles exhorted him. "The letter you sent...I think I understand but...How did all this come about?"

The older man turned his face to look towards the moonlit window, his face pinched and grim.

"All my life, I could feel an insistent gnawing in the back of my mind." The man replied heavily. "It was a yearning, a thirst for discovery that could be neither numbed nor sated. I told you, in the letter, of how I began to tire of conventional extravagance..." He sighed. "In time, you will know the tragic extent of my failings. But you cannot bear it all now. Not as you are...so innocent, so...naive to the truth. The horrors you have seen are but the the tamest of things, teasing, poking, nibbling at the edges of your mind so that you can still comprehend them but soon. ." He said as he turned back to Charles, his eyes bright with terrible prescience. "Soon you will face true horrors, madness beyond all knowing! On that day, I can only hope your mind can bear such terrible wisdom and not shatter like glass!"

"Start from the beginning then." Charles suggested softly. "Tell me of things more...benign."

The older man stroked his beard with a considering look as he studied the young man kneeling before him. A moment later his lips parted in a horrible, maddened smile, his eyes alighting with horrific wisdom.

"Let me share with you the terrible wonders I have come to know…"

Charles sat up with a gasp, sweat covering his brow as the morning sun filtered into his room from the window nearby. His eyes swiftly searched about for the illusive study and the dark figure he had been speaking to just moments ago.

"Grandfather…" He whispered softly.

* * *

 _Later that morning…_

Hooves clattered along the rough cobblestone road as the lone horse and its brown-cloaked rider rode towards the hamlet. Clopping over the bridge that spanned the small river the horse trotted over to the inn before the rider reined it in, getting down a moment later. Williams quickly emerged from his house to see what the commotion was, hurrying over to the rider and their horse.

"Good morning! Good morning!" Williams called out as he neared, his coattails flapping behind him. "How can Williams-" He paused when the rider turned, their face clear to him.

"Good lady!" He crowed happily at seeing Gerri's tanned face. "Good lady welcome back!" He said happily, rushing to her and giving her a hug which Gerri returned with a smile, turning her head to avoid the man's horrid breath. "A week it has been, a long week without your smiling face!"

"I'm glad to see you too Williams." Gerri said with a smile. "But at the moment I need to speak with Lord Ezekiel. Do you know where he is?"

Pulling back the man struck a thoughtful pose, scratching the tufts of hair on the side of his head. "Hmmm….Master Charles usually has breakfast now, at the inn he might be, yes, with the others. Shall we see?" He asked eagerly.

Gerri nodded. "Might as well check there first." She suggested.

Entering the inn they found Charles eating with Reynaulds and Al'Bin with a few of the others at another table. Looking up upon hearing the door they smiled at seeing her.

"Welcome back Gerri!" Reynaulds called out. "Come! Join us! Tell us of your trip!"

"Breakfast for the lady if you please!" Charles called over to the tavern keeper who nodded as Gerri sat down next to them.

"How did things go?" Winters asked.

"There's very little to tell." Gerri admitted. "I came back because I received another vision." The Vestal turned to look at Charles. "We must return to the ruins and quickly!"

Charles frowned slightly in confusion at this. "We can certainly do so but might I ask why? What is this vision you beheld?"

"The Light spoke to me in another vision as I slept." Gerri explained. "Because of my obedience to its will in following the first vision it gave me new knowledge I hadn't had before."

"What knowledge is this?" Al'Bin asked curiously.

"The Light has told me of 3 altars that were stolen from the hamlet and were turned by a necromancer of great foulness." Gerri replied. "He resides deep within the catacombs. These altars are boosting the necromancer's power, thanks to the constant sacrifices made upon them by his undead servants. Normally he keeps them close but a day ago he placed them in various spots in the ruins. Places we have access to. If we were to purify the altars they would be rendered useless to the necromancer and the greater powers he wields would be lost to him!"

Charles tapped a finger against his cheek in thought before he looked over to Al'Bin. "Is what she says possible?" At Gerri's annoyed look he held up a hand. "Please, I do not mean to discount what you said but I simply ask as such matters are his specialty."

The swarthy man stroked his dark mustache thoughtfully for a moment. "If the altars were purified properly then the Dark's influence upon them would be disrupted." He agreed thoughtfully. "It concerns me that this sorcerer has suddenly decided to move them into the open. Either he is preparing a ritual that requires them to be in specific places, or he is attempting to draw us into a trap by offering them as bait. Neither of which is good news."

Charles nodded. "I agree but we must take this opportunity the Light has seen fit to warn us about. What would we need to purify these altars? Holy water?"

Frowning in thought for a moment the occultist shook his head. "Holy water would not be enough. If these altars have been desecrated to the extent that they serve the Dark entirely, they will need to be purged with something much more potent. Given our supplies here, the best we can hope for are phials of consecrated essence. It should be just enough to purify them I think."

"Can you prepare such a thing?" Charles asked.

"With Dr. Bellcoat's and Ms. Gerri's help, yes." The man replied seriously. "But we must make haste. The longer we delay the higher the probability the necromancer will complete his ritual. But more than that, assuming this is no trap, once the altars are purified we must attempt to destroy the necromancer himself. He will be weakened by the loss of the altars and will be attempting to reconstruct them via different materials. We can use this distraction against him."

Charles nodded. "So be it then. Once the essences are made we must find the altars in the ruins and consecrate them. Depending on how well things progress we can then delve deeper into the ruins and kill the necromancer while he is weak and confused. I will call for volunteers once they are made."

Breakfast concluded quickly with Al'Bin rounding up Hannah and Gerri to assist in the endeavor while the others continued to practice in preparation for the upcoming assault.

"What will we need in order to formulate this 'essence'?" Hannah asked briskly as the trio made their way to the woman's apothecary.

"We will be using both purified and holy water as a base into which we will immerse various ingredients." Al'Bin explained. "Anything with purity or affiliated with the Light will make the mixture more potent."

"Pure salt is a good place to start." Gerri suggested as they entered the building. "It is often used in certain rituals and does not contain contaminants."

"Anything considered chemically pure then?" Hannah asked pointedly. "Even extracts or substances that are poisonous or toxic when purified?"

Al'Bin considered this carefully for a moment with his brows drawn before nodding. "Anything that is natural from the Earth would not be considered a defilement. Only those substances which are tainted by the Darkness would be considered so."

Hannah began to move aside some of her equipment to make room as she gathered some phials from the nearby shelves. "If we're talking about essences of purity that suggests intent behind the ingredients or reagents used and not actual chemical processes themselves, yes?" She asked Jacques who nodded.

"For such things it is the faith behind those who craft it and the intent for which the mixture is to be used." He explained. "The higher powers themselves assist in the creation to make the potion greater than the sum of its ingredients."

"Right, so what we'll need then are purified cleansing agents." She said intently, pushing her long hair back out of her face as she began to organize the equipment in front of her, her eyes darting back and forth as her mind considered multiple possibilities. "Liquids, powders, herbs, anything that can rejuvenate, clean, scour, or otherwise provide restoration to the subject. The more potent the better. Holy water we have and I have some concentrated acid available. I should be able to distill it further. Hopefully the other ingredients will mix properly with it so we don't end up eating away the altar itself. What about preparations? Ratios of comparative substances? Mixing procedures?" She asked quickly.

"I have such information on a scroll in my rooms." He said. "I can fetch them easily enough."

"I'll get some holy water from Williams and I have a few small pouches of herbs and things as well as some purified salt." Gerri said.

Hannah nodded. "Get going then. I'll check my stores to see what can be added on my end as well."

The pair left with the sorcerer quickly checking through his papers and scrolls while Gerri quickly stopping by the hamlet's store to purchase the largest bottle of holy water Williams had. Jogging from the store to her room in the tavern she quickly gathered up the various pouches and small tins she had brought with her along with a few oil jars. Her arms full she quickly returned to the apothecary to see Hannah boiling some water in a special flask containing an opening at the bottom as well as the top while using an alcohol lamp beneath it for heat. Francine stood nearby, watching as the other plague doctor quickly examined her stores with almost manic energy as she spoke in a hurried tone.

"I decided to purify the alcohol as best I could before using the lamp in case the purity of the flame happens to impact the efficacy of the overall process." She explained to Francine as Gerri began placing her items on the large table. "Light knows what kind of arcane or obscure rules govern this sort of potion making and we don't have time to run a dozen tests on this stuff to see if it actually works. One shot with the altars themselves and that's it! Normally I wouldn't dare try something this risky but given the circumstances and the time factor involved-" She paused to take a breath.

"You're enjoying this immensely, I can tell." Francine said with a smile. "I haven't see you this excited in ages."

"Spare me." Hannah groused as she picked up a bottle and examined its contents critically with an eye before replacing it and picking up another. "Just because I'm in a hurry…"

"You always get like this every time you have a challenge in front of you." Francine pointed out in amusement. "Trying whole new experiments, flying by the seat of your pants, wondering if it will work or not, and let's not forget the crowing at the end when you've pulled off another miracle no one else could achieve."

Hannah slowed briefly to smirk over at Francine as she collected a few jars. "Well I suppose I can't disagree with some of that. The crowing is rather enjoyable I admit." Noticing Gerri she spun and moved to the table. "Excellent! What do you have?"

"A large bottle of holy water, biggest one Williams had, as well as some Onyca oil, Galbanum holy oil, lavender, and citrus oils as they are said to purify the body." Gerri said.

"Good, good." Bellecoat said thoughtfully as she pulled the tins and bottles to her before beginning to examine them. "I doubt they're pure given how they were mixed but I should be able to distill them into their components easily enough, remove any impurities or extra nonsense, and then reconstitute them. Lavender and citrus makes sense but what about the other two?"

"Galbanum supposedly helps create a connection to the Light when it is used appropriately and Onyca is used for anointing." Gerri explained.

Hannah took out a pad of paper and began to scribble down notes in shorthand while keeping an eye on the simmering flask. "Hmm...useful certainly and considering the application the anointing aspect makes sense as well. I have purified essence of rosemary and lemongrass on hand which are used for cleansing purposes as well as some sulfuric acid that I can distill further."

Jacques arrived a moment later, a scroll and a few small containers in his hands. "I brought the scroll as well as a prism as I thought we could try adding light itself to the concoction in some way. I also have some hyssop and spikenard."

Hannah nodded thoughtfully as she pulled on her thick doctor's robes and a pair of thick gloves. "Good idea with the herbs. I hadn't considered filtered light but it can't hurt I suppose. Right, let me get the distilled water into another container and we'll get to work. Francine, if you're going to stand around and take up space you can at least help. Start distilling that hyssop and spikenard; make sure it's as purified as you can get. I'll check the oils and see about their mixtures. Al'Bin, start reading that scroll, I want to know every detail no matter how seemingly insignificant it might be to you." She instructed as she moved the alcohol lamp and placed another container under the suspended flask before opening the bottom.

"What should I do?" Gerri asked uncertainly, stepping back so the others could work.

"You will have a part to play." Al'Bin told her. "As I recall such mixtures often require prayers or chants by one who is blessed by the Light or able to use its power."

"Splendid." Hannah said with a hint of relish as she watched the pure water pour into the container. "Sounds like we have everything we need."

As Al'Bin began to describe the process Francine began to place the various herbs and petals in separate smaller flasks before carefully pouring some of the distilled water into each one and lighting more alcohol lamps before suspending the flasks above the lamps. Attaching a funnel to each flask she adjusted them to collect the distilled liquid into secondary containers. Hannah herself worked quickly, purifying further the acid she had mentioned before testing each of the oils the others had brought and distilling them as needed.

"...After stirring gently for one minute the Prayer of Consecration must be intoned by one who is blessed of the Light, their hand or pad of their index finger placed above the material such that the Light's power may fall from their hand or digit and be absorbed into the mixture." Al'Bin read from the scroll. "If a gem, clear stone, or other such item be used to infuse the mixture with light, the object should be held properly in order to convert the pure sunlight into a rainbow or other appropriate color given the stone used, with the end of the converted light beam interspersed with the material itself. The prayer should be chanted repeatedly for two minutes and the light ray held constant throughout…"

As the smell of herbs and oils filled the room Hannah had Gerri open a window to allow the morning sunlight in. Al'Bin held the prism at the proper angle so that the rainbow of color created from the sun shone into the glass bottle where the holy water was kept. Hannah added the distilled water to the bottle of holy water before slowly adding several of the newly purified oils, one after another, with a critical eye. Using a small hourglass to mark intervals of time she began to mix the liquids with Francine handing her the small containers of the distilled and purified essences while Gerri chanted quietly, her finger over the opening of the bottle with small tendrils of golden light winding their way from her finger into the bottle, swirling about the various contents. As Bellecoat continued to add more ingredients the liquid in the bottle began to glow such that it began to outshine the rainbow. Minutes passed as she stirred and mixed the solution with a thin glass rod, the movements as deft as a conductor's baton. Calling out the names of the substance she needed Francine would hand them to her with Bellecoat adding just the right amounts at just the right times as she bent close to the flask's opening, her eye focused on it. Oftentimes a mere drop was the only requirement from moment to moment, yet her hand or eye never wavered, as precise as a surgeon with a scalpel. Finally as the last of the prayers were chanted by Gerri and the last of the ingredients added and mixed the mixture flared brightly, becoming almost uncomfortable to the eyes, the substance within appearing like liquid lightning as it slowly swirled about in the large flask.

Letting out a deep sigh Hannah stared unblinkingly at the swirling mixture, her eyes taking in every detail before leaning back with a satisfied smile on her face. "Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we have our consecrated essence."

"Well done Hannah!" Francine said happily. "I knew you could do it!"

"Was there ever any doubt?" She asked smugly as she blew out the lamps and removed her gloves. "Well done!" She said to the others, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Gerri smiled. "I appreciate the compliment and look forward to the crowing."

Hannah chuckled quietly at that. "I'll hold off on that until we get those altars consecrated. Then I'm going to laugh in that necromancer's face as I shove my scalpel into his throat.".

The others smiled grimly at the notion as they watched the bright liquid swirl.

* * *

 _Later that afternoon…_

The entire group stood in the training hall with Charles standing before them, his hands clasped behind his back.

"The Light has granted us the opportunity to strike a blow against our foe!" Charles stated. "A day ago Gerri received a vision from the Light, informing her that a necromancer prepares to instigate some foul ritual in the ruins. To that end they are using three of the altars that were stolen from the hamlet years ago. Until now the altars have been out of our reach but our enemy has placed them where they are vulnerable and so we have the means to take them back, thus weakening him in the process! For this mission we will need two groups! The first must take the consecrated essence that our good Dr. Bellecoat has prepared into the ruins, locate the altars, and then consecrate them with the essence so that their connection to the Dark and the necromancer are broken! Once this has been done the second group must enter the ruins to hunt down the necromancer and destroy him before he has a chance to regain his strength and retake the altars!"

Pausing for a moment he continued. "For those who do not take part, our guild master has agreed to conduct sparring matches and extra training with Ernest's assistance as the man is a seasoned veteran of various wars. Who is willing to assist in these missions?"

Jacques and Francine stepped forward immediately. "We both helped in the creation of the essence." Al'Bin said. "We can help ensure the purification of the altars is done properly, plus you will need our skills against the opposition we will face from the necromancer's forces who will no doubt be guarding them."

Charles nodded. "Very well? Anyone else?"

Andre also stepped forward. "You will need a strong sword arm to defend you. I shall offer my aid as well."

Mortimer also stepped forward. "Ah've been in the woods but Ah've not yet seen yon ruins ye spoke of. Me and the Laddie'll stand with ye."

Charles nodded sharply. "So be it! What of the group to take on the necromancer himself?"

Reynauld, Dismas, Gerri, and Hannah all stepped forward at once. "We were the first to render our aid to you and we have the most experience with these horrors." Reynauld stated firmly. "It is only proper that we undertake this mission."

Charles nodded again. 'I cannot argue with that. Very well. Let us take the rest of the day to prepare as best we can. At dawn the attack begins!" He commanded as the entire group raised their weapons with a shout.

The rest of the day proceeded apace as those who had volunteered prepared themselves mentally and physically for the tasks at hand before taking a meal and bedding down for the night. The next morning as the sun rose in the sky the two groups made their way up the hill to the derelict cathedral. Andre, Mortimer, Al'Bin, and Francine paused at the door to look back at Winter's group, the man nodding to them firmly in his armor. Pushing open the door the group of four made their way into the darkened space with torches lit. As they made their way down the hallway a strange object came into view. Rising like a knobbed spike from the floor, the top of the object curled obscenely like a beckoning tentacle. In the center sat a crystalline orb the color of fresh blood with darker red light swirling slowly within it.

"Could this be the altar we are looking for?" Andre wondered as he reached out to touch the orb.

"Stop!" Al'Bin shouted suddenly, his voice ringing across the hallway.

Andre's hand froze inches from the object as he turned to look at the sorcerer, the man's normally swarthy face having become pale.

"Step away from that immediately!" The man ordered urgently.

Withdrawing his hand Andre stepped back carefully as Al'Bin stepped forward, his black eyes focused on the swirling object in front of them. Carefully stretching forth his hand, not daring to touch the orb, the sorcerer began to mutter dark and arcane words. Violet crackles of energy darted from his fingers to arc across to the pedestal before Al'Bin withdrew his hand with a sharp intake of breath.

"A trap indeed, but not the kind we were expecting!" He hissed.

"What say you Al'Bin?" Andre asked.

The robed man turned to them, his face grim and eyes bright. "This is an altar yes, but of a terrible sort. The amount of dark power flowing through it is immense. If I am correct, activating it will open a gateway to a realm I dare not speak of! What might lay beyond I shall not speculate on but I fear it would be the end of all of us."

"In other words, not the altar we're looking for." Francine suggested.

"Correct." The man replied grimly.

"Let's move on then and make sure to keep a good distance from that thing." Andre stated.

As they moved further down the dim corridor they soon came to another object. This was appeared to be a large piece of broken onyx held up by a bronze stand with skull motifs. Everyone else stayed back as the sorcerer stepped forward once more, examining it with mundane and magical senses.

"Ah, I believe we have found our first objective." Al'Bin said with a smile.

"You're kidding me." Francine said in disbelief.

"No, this altar allows dark power to flow through it but I sense it was not always used for this purpose. This must be what we are searching for."

Nodding, Francine unpacked one of the three phials Bellecoat had prepared earlier to hold the essence so that each would get the same amount. The woman carefully uncorked the top and began to slowly pour the essence over the dark stone. As the last drop hit the stone a dark cloud erupted from all around it before slowly dissipating into nothingness. Scanning the stone again, Al'Bin nodded.

"The darkness has been purged and I sense that positive energies are surrounding it once more."

Andre nodded. "Good. One down. Let us hope the others are as easy."

Finding the nearby room empty they continued down the hallway. In the torchlit gloom Mortimer suddenly spied a sack sitting innocently amidst the stones.

"What's this?" He asked quietly as he walked over to the sack, bending down and picking it up.

Francine called out a warning too late as the flagstones shifted before sending pointed blades up through the flooring, one of them stabbing into the man's foot. Mortimer cried out as the ancient weapon retracted back into the floor, the tip and edge bloody as Francine hurried forward, pulling off the man's boot while snatching a phial of powder from her belt.

"You're lucky Hannah has a stock of anti-bacterial powder that can kill tetanus, not to mention that I managed to snag a couple vials." She fretted as she dabbed the greenish powder into the oozing wound before winding a bandage around it.

"Feels like one o' yon mutts at the kennel took a likin' to me foot for lunch!" The burly man grunted in pain as he slowly stood, wincing as he put weight on his injured foot. "I'll be hobblin' about like a grandma for days like this!"

"Can you go on?" Andre asked in concern as the man carefully wiggled his foot back into his boot before lacing it again.

"Ach! I'll be fine soon." He grunted, his face slightly pale. "Take more than a bloody sword to put me down!"

Andre nodded, allowing the man to collect himself before taking hold of the sack and peering into it. "A small bit of gold here. A lovely trap it would seem."

"Aye." Mortimer groused. "An barely enough to care for me foot ah wager."

Andre gave him a humorless smile before handing the sack to him. A few minutes later the company continued further with Mortimer panting quietly. Entering a dusty study they quickly checked the room for threats as well as anything of interest.

"No beasties but there's a door here." Mortimer remarked, pointing out an old wooden door on the right wall, another door facing them at the far end of the room.

"Let us continue forward." Andre replied. "We can examine the other passage later."

Lighting another torch from his pack Andre led them out of the room and down another hallway. A moment later, furious screeches filled the air.

"Good choice laddie!" Mortimer called out sarcastically as three large spiders scuttled towards them on spiny legs. The first two had reddish bodies with the one behind them a putrid green.

"The green one!" Francine called out. "It spits venom! Even contact with the skin will poison you!"

Nodding, Jacques quickly summoned forth the dark powers that were his to command via the terrible pacts he had made years ago. Arcane words tumbled from his mouth as he held the skull-candle aloft. The object's eye sockets blazed with hellish red light as the candle flame surged. An instant later a portal rimmed in crimson light appeared in mid air before the party. A violet tentacle shot from the portal's entrance whipping about the spider, squeezing it tightly as it yanked the creature towards them, before vanishing back into the portal which also popped out of existence, space healing itself immediately as the spider staggered back and forth, dazed and injured from the experience.

Mortimer's sharp whistle cracked the air and the large boar hound surged forward with slavering jaws biting deep into the eye sockets of the spider and into its brain, killing it as it screeched in agony. At the same moment Francine swiftly threw one of the glass orbs that hung from her belt at one of the red spiders. The container smashed to pieces releasing a powerful toxin upon one of the spiders which began to stumble about drunkenly, its eyes blinking furiously to try and focus its scattered mental processes. The second red spider, furious at the attacks, spat a massive glob of webbing towards the party. Most were able to dodge out of the way, the webbing splattering against Al'Bin's chest and arms, restricting his movements as he stumbled back in shock and surprise, the globules attached to him covering him with a putrid stench.

Pulling a scroll of holy scripture from his belt Andre unrolled it before them as he shouted. "Let the Light be your scourge!"

Holy light erupted from the parchment, its energy surging over the two injured spiders, making them squeal in pain. Yanking the webbing free from his robes the sorcerer turned to Mortimer.

"Your injuries will only slow us down. Allow me to mend that situation." He said with a smirk as he began to gesture with his delicate fingers.

Arcane speech flowed from his lips and power flowed from his hands, the greenish bands of energy wrapping themselves around the burly Scot's body before sinking into it. The man felt his injuries knitting themselves together, the pain in his foot fading.

"Thanks, Laddie." The man sighed.

Meanwhile Francine had thrown another orb of liquid, the contents splashing against the second spider causing it to stagger about drunkenly while the other quickly withdrew, leaving its companion to take the brunt of their assault. The Crusader quickly attempted to use his scroll once more to injure them but the creatures skittered away into the dark beyond the torchlight.

"Where are they?" Andre asked urgently as Mortimer swung his torch about, attempting to find them within the shifting shadows around them.

Suddenly one of them leaped from the darkness with a screech, burying its fangs into Mortimer's thigh. The man cried out hysterically as he stumbled, falling to the ground as the creature continued to savage his leg, dripping foul saliva into the open wound, the ferocity of the attack shocking them all before Mortimer shoved the torch into the creature's face, making it jump back before retreating into the darkness once again.

"Bloody bastard!" Mortimer hissed, gripping his leg with a free hand. "Feels like me leg is on fire!"

Francine quickly stepped forward as the others kept watch. "I can at least stop any infection from spreading." She said fussily as she dripped several drops of anti-venom from her pouch into the wound. Suddenly the other spider surged from behind them, clamping onto Mortimer's arm, biting it angrily before racing away once again as the ground turned to face it.

"Stop it ya Light-damned knobdobber!" Mortimer shouted in pained fury. "Twas only one of ye me beastie got!"

Al'Bin quickly recited his spell once again, healing both of the terrible wounds as Francine helped him stand only to have one of the spiders shoot from the darkness once more, biting into his calf before racing away.

"Light-damned, twally-washing, bawheeded jobby!" Mortimer yelled furiously, descending into several Gaelic curses. "Now ye've gone and done it!" He thundered before his whistle pierced the air again. "Get 'em boy!" He shouted.

The boar hound immediately shot forward into the darkness. For several moments the air was filled with the sound of furious shrieks and barks as well as the crunching of jaws before the dog emerged, dragging the two spiders' corpses from its mouth, both of them covered in bleeding bite marks.

"Ahh, good boy!" Mortimer sighed, rubbing the dog's head as it deposited the remains at the man's feet.

"Most impressive." Al'Bin remarked.

"Aye, he's the best." Mortimer said with a smile before taking a vial of antivenom from his pouch and downing it. "Just in case that last broggie had somethin' nasty in its teeth."

They quickly lit a new torch, the previous one nearing its end, as they came to a rickety cabinet sitting against the wall, its panels securely shut. Andre dug a key out of his pouch and jiggled it in the lock, springing it. Opening the doors he found a similar key along with a large sack of gold and several crests in another pouch.

"Something to smile about finally." Mortimer remarked as the Crusader passed out the wealth and crests among them. "Tis a nice bit o' gold."

The ruined study at the end of the hallway proved to be empty of any threats, allowing the party to go back the way they came and head through the south-facing door. As they ventured down the hallway Andre came upon a stack of books sitting nearby. Frowning in curiosity the man picked up the first book of the stack and began flipping through the pages. Suddenly, before his eyes, the spidery script on the page began to wiggle and squirm unnaturally before reforming into sigils and glyphs that made his eyes water as he attempted to decipher them. The script immediately changed again and a dawning horror blossomed within the back of his mind. As the text began to spell out words of horrific truth his instincts screamed and he threw the book aside, panting. The spell broken he found himself shivering, his forehead covered in sweat.

"Are you alright Andre?" Francine asked in concern as she came forward, resting a hand on his armored shoulder.

The Frenchman looked at her hauntedly for a moment before taking a cloth from inside his armor and wiping his face with it. "I...will be fine. The book...it…" He sighed. "Well, let us say the passage I saw was rather...unsettling."

"It was more than that, I think." Al'Bin stated with grim certainty as he gazed at the stack of tomes warily. "Take care, all of you. There are dark forces at work here, even in the most innocuous things. Even I did not sense something amiss about these books." Stepping forward the man allowed his fingers to stroke the face of one of the bound leather books before frowning darkly. "There is ancient power here...and a subtle connection...almost as if the book itself is part of...but no, surely that cannot be." He muttered softly in consternation.

"What is it?" Andre asked anxiously.

The Arabic man glanced up at him swiftly with unreadable dark eyes before glancing about. "It is only a...fragment of an idea. A vague fear. But without more information I dare not speculate as that path leads to paranoia and fruitless thought. Once I am sure, then will I speak."

Andre frowned at him in concern. "Very well. You may hold your tongue for the moment but do not think to hoard some secret that might be vital to our success here."

"I assure you I intend no such thing." Al'Bin stated sharply as he straightened.

Bertrand's eyes remained focused on the swarthy man for a moment longer before he nodded, gesturing for the rest to follow him. Suddenly the shadows gave way to a pair of skeletons bearing clubs in their hands.

"Look out!" Francine cried as she pulled an orb from her belt and threw it at the closest skeleton, the acidic liquid eating away at its tendons. Al'Bin immediately summoned power to him, firing a hex at the second skeleton. The arcane energy crackled across the creature's bones, slowing it down and making it more vulnerable to attack. Mortimer's whistle saw his hound latch onto the second skeleton, ripping it to pieces while Andre beheaded the other with a single swing of his sword.

"T'was rather easy." Mortimer remarked in vague surprise as the boar hound came trotting back with a bone in its mouth.

"Let us hope the rest of our expedition is so easy." Andre remarked, picking up a few gold pieces that had fallen when the creatures had stood.

The hallway led to a small prayer room with the fresco of an ancient saint slowly flaking to pieces on the back wall. Taking the door at the other end of the room they continued down the hallway, their light suddenly illuminating a squad of bandits who turned in surprise at seeing the light. The first two began to pull short swords from their waists while the two behind them readied their rifles.

Wasting no time the Plague Doctor immediately flung an orb at the two riflemen, covering them in odious bacteria. Racing forward, Mortimer swung his cudgel at the first swordsman's head, making the man stagger and drop his weapon before dodging to the side as Bertrand brought forth his scroll, chanting a holy litany as the holy scripture blazed with divine light, burning both swordsman's uncovered faces and hands. The blast of light provided Jacques the precious seconds he needed to cast a spell, summoning a blood red portal whose tentacle grabbed one of the riflemen and yanked him forward, making him stumble. The second rifleman immediately opened fire on the group, the first rifleman doing the same after recovering his wits, both managing to pelt them with buckshot though distance and the second's wavering blunderbuss did nothing but ensure they did little damage.

Furious at being caught flat-footed and injured by the trespassers, one of the blademen charged forward with a yell. Dodging around Andre the man stabbed at Mortimer's flank, the blade burying itself deep into his side before jerking it free and dancing back to avoid a counterattack. Francine whipped an orb at the man who dodged to the side, the glass shattering against the other blademan and the rifleman near him who had been hit with her previous orb, covering both in liquefied bacteria. The double dose of the necrotizing substance had the first rifleman falling to the floor, hacking up black blood, seconds before the other collapsed as well, both expiring from the fast-acting rot, the spectacle shocking the other bandits.

Al'Bin used the moment to quickly mutter words of healing and suture, knitting together Mortimer's insides until his flesh was smooth again.

"Gonna be usin' all yer magic on me t'day Laddie." Mortimer grunted as the spell took effect. "Dunno what I done ta' anger the gods like this."

"Perhaps they simply dislike your face." Al'Bin suggested drolly.

With a furious roar the other blademan ran forward, swinging his sword wildly at Andre who quickly dodged before stabbing his sword deep into the man's chest, killing him. At the same moment the second bandit struck at Mortimer with uncanny speed once more, slicing his arm deeply.

"Bleedin' codger! I'll give ye a bashin' ye'll nae forget!" Mortimer bellowed angrily as his cudgel crashed down upon the man's head, making him stumble back as blood flowed down his face and into his eyes.

Running at the man with fury in her eyes Francine grabbed an orb and smashed it into the man's face, making him howl as he fell to the ground, the combination of glass and acidic rot eating away at his face until he finally stilled as the substance began eating away at his brain..

As the group searched the bodies they found a small cut emerald hidden in one of the bandit's pockets as well as a pouch of gold which they divided up. Making their way down the hallway they carefully entered the next room. Finding it deserted they continued south in their search. Finding a stone door set into the middle of the hallway they carefully entered the side room.

Sitting in the middle of the small room was the second onyx altar with a small object near one of its legs.

Andre's eyes narrowed at this. "This seems rather convenient, stowing it away in here as if it were a broom in a closet."

"Agreed." Al'Bin stated cautiously before motioning everyone back. "One of the restoratives if you please, my lady." He asked.

Francine handed him one of the bottles of purified essence from her pack before the sorcerer entered the room carefully, muttering cantrips of detection and true sight softly, holding the skull and candle aloft, both filling the room with decrepit light. In his sight the sorcerer could see the dark energy flowing from the onyx structure like a river of oil flowing upwards through the ceiling. Looking about the walls appeared to be covered with dark webbing like veins and arteries of a massive beast. Detecting no traps or spells lying in wait he carefully approached the altar and began to pour the essence over its surface. As the last of the substance touched the altar the dark flow immediately ceased as positive energy erupted from the altar's surface before creating an aura of light around it. Unbidden, Al'Bin touched his fingertips against the black surface.

 _Flash!_

Reality vanished around him for a moment and he found himself standing before a being of light, the pair of them standing within a great blue and white void.

 _We thank you, Jacques Al'Bin, for freeing our vessel from its chains._ The creature said in a booming yet mellifluous voice. _Long ago you sought power through dark rituals and terrible bargains with beings you dared not comprehend. Yet, even now, there is hope, for you fight against powers such as those. Know that in time the choice will come upon you. In that moment, WE will stand beside you._

The being vanished and reality returned, Al'Bin blinking his eyes several times to clear them of the afterimages. Resolving to consider the matter at the proper time he nodded gravely to the altar in silent thanks before bending down and retrieving the item next to the altar's brass leg.

Holding the scratched and scarred iron padlock in his hand he muttered another spell, willing time and memory to appear before his eyes. Flashes of sound and light appeared in his mind as he beheld snippets of a tortured man bound in chains superimposed over a horrific beastial creature with long swept-back horns and a powerful body. Fire and the shouts of an angry mob filled his ears as he saw the man race into a forbidding forest, shunned and hunted by all before being taken by a terrible figure in robes the color of dried blood. The spell ended a moment later and the sorcerer stood still for a moment, processing all that he had seen before turning back to his companions who waited expectantly for him.

"The altar has been purified." He told them as he stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

"What's that you have?" Andre asked, looking at the padlock in the man's hand.

"The lock that once held back a powerful creature. One that, I think, could be of use to us, assuming he still lives." Al'Bin stated. "The foe we seek will not treat one such as him kindly."

"You know this how?" Andre asked skeptically.

"You have seen my power first hand and yet ask such a question?" Al'Bin asked sardonically with a sarcastic twist of his lips. "Time and hidden knowledge are mine to manipulate and use as I see fit. The necromancer is a seeker of ancient lore and forgotten secrets above all else. He will use this creature to his advantage if he can. Assuming the man still lives he would no doubt be of use to us; revenge is a powerful motivator."

Andre nodded thoughtfully. "We shall see, then, assuming we can find this person you speak of. Let us continue onward."

The hallway turned to the west as they continued to follow it only to find their way blocked by a large pile of rubble. Grumbling the group took out their shovels and began to move the large blocks of stone and earth to the side, creating a pair of smaller piles on either side of the hallway before continuing onward. Coming to a crumbling locked cabinet the Crusader used his key to open the lock. Within lay a second key as well as collections of crests, busts, gold, and even a few emeralds sitting in a shallow bowl.

"A small fortune." Al'Bin noted appraisingly, eyeing the gems.

"Indeed." Andre replied as he passed around the looted items before they continued onward.

The next room yielded nothing but dust and ruin as the party delved deeper into the corrupted ruins. As the group continued down the dimly lit hallway Mortimer paused to look at a cobweb-covered confession booth, the fact of its existence in such an austere place a mystery. Frowning in confusion the barrel-chested man drew back the wine colored velvet curtain covering the entrance to the penitent's chamber. Immediately the blood drained from his face as he beheld a terrible figure seated in the booth. The human-like emaciated figure was covered in rags with pustule-covered skin and black necrotic rot covering its body, it's face a ruin with its eyes vanished from their sockets leaving gaping holes of blackness that seemed to vanish into the abyss. The only thing left untouched was its mouth, though even that aspect was not without blemish for the thing's teeth were rotten and misshapen. Seemingly dead the malformed thing suddenly took a shuddering raspy breath and turned its head to face the houndsman with its horrible face, its mouth curving upward into a repulsive rictus.

 _I͔͔̦̝̞̱̋ͨ́̉̽̿̊ͫ͘ ̩̖̱̄ͧ͘͝š̱̗̳̗̰̭̣ͣ́͜ę͙̻̟̣͛̍͊͛͡e̢̟̘͎̤͕͉ͯ͛̋̿͡ ̗͇̠̎̓͂͆̃ͫ͊͘͞y͓̝̰̻͖͈̖̤ͩͪ͡o̸͖̦͍̲̠͆ͤ̈̄͜͟u̼̟̙̘̦̖̥̿̏͂_

Letting out a horrified cry Mortimer leaped back letting the curtain fall across the horrifying figure, hiding it from sight. The others rushed over to him a moment later but the shaking man could only point at the curtain with a wavering finger. His hand on the hilt of his sword Andre threw back the curtain, ready to slash open what had dared to frighten the man so.

The chamber was empty of all but dust and decay.

Mortimer silently gaped at the impossibility before his shaking hand rested against the back of his trusted friend, patting the hound's fur to reassure himself as Andre let the curtain fall once more, looking back at the man quizzically.

"Let us take care not to judge in a place such as this." Al'Bin stated carefully. "Illusion and trickery will run rampant the further we delve into this madman's domain. This necromancer no doubt has powers over light and shadow as well as death."

Nodding the others continued on with Francine resting a hand bracingly on Mortimer's shoulder to help steady him. Turning a corner they entered through an old wooden door only to find themselves in dread company. Before them stood a skeleton in plate mail bearing a large buckler and hand axe. Behind the grim defender stood a man and a woman dressed in half-skull masks with gold and black robes and even further back stood another skeleton dressed in conquistador's armor with a crossbow clutched in its bony fingers.

Behind them sat the last of the three altars.

"I don't believe you were invited." The woman stated menacingly as she glared at them through her half-skull mask.

"The rightful owner of these lands has returned! Your kind are no longer welcome!" Andre retorted firmly.

The woman's mouth curved upward in a cruel smile. "Fool! The lord of these lands is not the pitiful youth who sits in the squalid hamlet but a power far greater than you can imagine!"

The woman gestured over her shoulder at the crossbowman behind her. "Kill the one in the mask first."

The skeleton immediately obeyed, its raised crossbow firing a bolt across the room at lightning speed to slam into Francine's stomach, making her cry out in agony as she fell to her knees. At the same time the woman raised her rod of warped blackened wood crying out in a fell voice. Pure darkness surged from the rod and scenes of horrific madness flashed across Andre's eyes and mind making him cry out in disoriented terror.

"Get 'er boy!" Mortimer shouted and the boar hound surged across the room on clawed paws, its jaws sinking into her hip before tearing flesh free, soaking her robes with blood.

Incensed, the woman's companion charged the Houndmaster with a furious roar but Mortimer quickly leaped aside as Andre slashed the man's side with his sword, wounding him seriously as blood began to foul his robes. Francine staggered to her feet, gritting her teeth against the pain as she felt the bolt grate against her insides. The Plague Doctor hastily threw an orb towards the crossbowman, the filthy contents splashing against both the skeleton and the woman, making her cry out in anger. Taking advantage of the moment Jacques quickly cast a spell of healing upon Francine, healing some of her insides though the wound continued to bleed. The armored skeleton charged forward, his axe slamming against Andre's armor, scoring it heavily and making him stagger back before the undead stepped back hastily, bringing up its shield on guard. Weaving another spell of healing using the dark magics at his command, Al'Bin once again directing his powers at Francine, healing her further as she yanked the bolt from her flesh, her insides immediately sealing over though blood continued to soak her heavy robe.

"Stop that magician!" The woman ordered the crossbowman as she raised her rod. Dark power and a crossbow bolt flew at Jacques as the man dropped to the floor, both missing him by inches as he glared hatefully at them with his dark eyes. Meanwhile, Francine quickly uncorked a bottle at her belt, pouring some of the liquid into the wound to help staunch the flow of blood and kill any bacteria infesting the wound as the man in black and gold robes stabbed at Mortimer with his long claws. The burly man dodged to the side before slamming his blackjack into the side of the man's head, stunning him with a yell as he staggered. Mortimer quickly whistled and his faithful companion leaped at the cultist knocking him to the ground. As the man attempted to struggle to his feet the dog buried its fangs in the man's neck, savagely tearing out his throat in a fountain of blood. At the same moment Andre flew forward, getting past the shield-bearer's guard and slashing his sword across the creature's body, the weak armor buckling as bone shards flew in all directions. Furiously the creature swung its axe again but the Crusader ducked under the swing before swinging with all his strength at the creature's neck. With a _crack_ the creature's head flew from its body as the rest of it collapsed in a heap.

Al'Bin quickly stood as the crossbowman fired another shot at the Plague Doctor, hitting her in the shoulder as she stumbled back once again with a cry.

"Gods dammit! Shoot someone else!" She bellowed.

Furiously the Plague Doctor tore an orb from her belt and threw it. The orb arced true, smashing against the woman, the liquid hitting both of them in the face.

The woman screamed at the destructive bacteria quickly ate away at her face, turning into a foul ruin as she collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony, while the skull of the crossbowman began to break down as the liquid ate away at it. Taking a moment to marshal his powers Al'Bin quickly placed his hands on Francine.

"Hold still!" He commanded her as he yanked the bolt out of her shoulder, making her cry out.

Words of power poured from his lips as he spoke another healing spell. Power flooded through them as the eldritch energies quickly bound Francine's wounds, healing her completely, the pain in her body vanishing. As the undead crossbowman tried to line up another shot the Plague Doctor yanked another orb from her belt.

"No you don't!" She shouted, flinging it at the creature.

The disorienting flash powder erupted in front of the creature's eyes, blinding it and making it stumble about.

"Take 'im down boy!" Mortimer shouted in triumph.

The dog surged across the room, knocking the creature to the ground before ripping its head from its spinal column.

Sighing in relief Francine quickly strode over to the altar, taking out the final flask and pouring its contents onto the massive piece of onyx. Divine power surged across the artifact as it regained its connection to the Light.

"It is done." Al'Bin stated with satisfaction. "The dark corruption has gone from them and the power no longer feeds the vile necromancer below. We must leave quickly and notify the others."

The dark sorcerer smiled grimly. "The time to attack is now."


	12. Nightmare Made Material

A\N: I would like to thank everyone for the recent reviews, sadly a lot of them were guest reviews so I can't reply to them directly, much as I might wish I could. They and others have been wondering whether I will include the Crimson Court DLC into my story. As it stands right now I will most likely include it as a one shot or side story adjacent to Clutching Shadows once the story has advanced more, though when exactly this will happen I prefer not to say at the moment since it is still up in the air.

Chapter 11: Nightmare Made Material

The group breathed a sigh of relief as they stepped into the open air, the sun shining down on them.

"I dinnae care if it's midday." Mortimer said as he trudged down the dirt road away from the decrepit cathedral. "Ah be headin' straight to the tavern for a nip or two at least before headin' ta bed. What about you lass?" He asked Francine.

The woman shook her head. "I don't think I'll be touching the stuff after this." She replied. "The last thing I need is to turn into a raging alcoholic on top of being a raving loon from everything that goes on here."

"Suit yerself." The man said with a shrug before wincing at the aches and pains that still plagued him.

As they walked the second group approached them.

"Is everyone alright?" Reynauld asked.

"Battered, bruised, and bloodied but whole." Andre said tiredly. "Thanks to Jacques. The mission was a success. Go now, and finish what we started." He told Reynauld who nodded.

"You're alright?" Bellecoat asked Francine in concern, noticing the tears in her robe.

Francine nodded. "Took a shot to the gut and the shoulder but Jacques healed them well enough."

"Make sure to check yourself over carefully." Hannah instructed her firmly. "The last thing we need is for you to expire from a wound you missed. As wonderful as healing magic is, it doesn't always catch everything."

Francine smiled. "Yes Doctor."

Hannah smirked before putting on her beaked mask. "Good girl."

A'Bin approached Reynauld, his face stern. "Be warned, we discovered an altar of great and terrible power in that place. Do not touch it or even go near it for it would spell the end of all of you."

"What does it look like, this altar?" Reynauld asked in concern.

"A gruesome spike with a glowing red orb in the center." The sorcerer stated. "It emitted dark power of great intensity. I believe it is a portal that, when activated, would allow through something terrible. Mark my words and mark them well!"

Reynauld nodded. "We shall not touch it."

Al'Bin nodded. "Good. I also found this near one of the altars." He said, holding up the scratched padlock.

"I assume there is something significant about it?" Reynauld asked him quizzically as he gazed at the object.

"This lock once belonged to a powerful creature. One that I think could be of use to us,  
assuming he still lives. Should you find him alive and reasonable, I suggest returning with him."

"What creature is this?" Reynauld asked.

"He will appear as a tortured man, possibly bound in chains. But within him resides a bestial creature with long swept-back horns and a powerful body. Hopefully you will meet him as the first and not the second."

"We will do what we can." The Crusader replied dubiously, slightly repulsed at the thought.

Al'Bin nodded before turning away as the first group made their way back to the hamlet, the fresher and more prepared second company making their way to the broken cathedral doors before stepping inside.

"A devil walks these halls." Gerri remarked softly as she looked about the entryway. "Only the mad or the desperate would go in search of him."

Reynauld looked back at the others and smiled grimly. "Perhaps. Be we are not searching for him. We _hunt_ him, and that is a completely different matter."

Nodding the others began to light torches as they entered the hallway. Making their way down to the lower levels beyond the catacombs they carefully probed the flickering and shifting shadows that made their home there.

"Was this cabinet here before?" Reynauld asked curiously as they came upon a locked cabinet sitting against the wall of the hallway.

"Not that I recall." Gerri replied in a puzzled tone as the Crusader jiggled his key in the lock, opening it.

Inside sat a small oil painting, a few sapphires that glittered in the torchlight, and a small sack of gold as well as a spare key.

"Very nice." Reynauld smiled. Recalling his audience he stifled his urge to keep them for himself and passed them out to the others.

"This whole place is strange." Gerri continued as they made their way down the hall. "It seems different from before, or maybe I am simply not remembering properly."

"It's been a bit since we were 'ere." Dismas remarked. "Light knows I be wantin' t' forget this place and its twisty turns."

Suddenly the Highwayman felt the stone beneath his feet shift.

Leaping aside with a yell the sprung trap shot blades up through hidden slits between the stones, making the man heave a sigh of relief as they retracted.

"Bloody 'ell! Glad I didn't forget about that!" He exclaimed.

"Indeed." Hannah remarked. "I would hate to have to use my supplies on you this early in the venture."

"Sod off woman." Dismas grumbled, making Hannah smirk beneath her mask.

Coming to a door Reynauld opened it before leading them inside. Waiting for them were a man and a woman in bronze skull masks and black robes along with a pair of skeletons, one wielding a sword and the other a crossbow.

"Our master is rather upset with you." The man stated acerbically.

"Why don' you lead us to 'im then and we can straighten this whole bloody mess out." Dismas suggested mockingly.

The man's lips twisted in a cruel smile. "He has no interest in speaking with filth like you. Your corpses, on the other hand, will make a lovely addition to his retinue."

Dismas smirked at this as he subtly reached for his pistol. "Too bad I ain't plannin' on dyin' today."

Whipping his pistol from his belt Dismas took an instant to aim before pulling the trigger. The hand cannon roared, sending a barrage of grapeshot to slam against the two cultists and the sword-wielding skeleton. The man's robes tore from the assault with more shot tearing into his chest as the woman cried out while bone shards flew from the skeleton.

"Get them!" The man shouted furiously as he clutched his scarred and bleeding torso.

The woman immediately raised her wooden rod and dark magic surged from it, shooting across the room to wrap Gerri in its dark power as the sword-bearing skeleton ran forward to slice at Dismas, cutting through his armored coat and parting flesh beneath. At the same time the arbalest near the woman let loose an arrow that stabbed into Hannah's leg.

Gerri shuddered at the dark despair that seemed to flow around her before holding her mace high and calling upon the Light's power.

"LET HEALING LIGHT BE YOUR BANE!" She shouted.

Bright light radiated from the weapon, dispelling the magic and healing its corrupting influence as she pointed it towards the arbalest. The beam of holy energy slammed into the undead creature, making it screech as bone shards and sinew flew from its body.

Yanking the bolt from her leg Hannah threw it to the ground in anger before ripping an orb from her belt and throwing it at the arbalest. The destructive bacteria splashed against the armored skeleton as well as the wicked woman close by, making her shout in disgust as she frantically tried to rub it off with her sleeve.

Meanwhile Dismas and the sword-wielding skeleton continued to dodge and swipe at each other, the creature's blade missing Dismas by inches.

"You call that a swing? I call it a whiff!" Dismas taunted the creature. Suddenly a beam of light caused the creature to explode into a million pieces. Taking a moment to shield his face from bone fragments, he turned around in annoyance to see Gerri lower her mace with a smile.

"That one counts as mine, woman!" He insisted loudly as he reloaded his pistol.

"If you say so." Gerri replied sweetly as Dismas spun back around, aiming at the female cultist.

His pistol barked, the shot shearing through the woman's neck. Letting out a gurgling cry she fell to the floor while Reynauld charged forward to attack the man, his blade burying itself in the man's chest, heart-blood spilling from the wound as he crumpled to the ground.

The arbalest swiftly fired another shot at Bellecoat, the Plague Doctor dodging to the side before lobbing another sphere at the skeleton, a burst of flash powder blinding it. Jerking his blade free from the corpse Reynauld ran forward, slicing the creature's skull from its body, the rest of it collapsing in a heap.

"Everyone alright?" Reynauld asked as he looked about, cleaning his blade.

"My leg hurts like hell but other than that I'm fine." Hannah replied. "Thankfully the shot hit the muscle rather than an artery."

Looking about the room they discovered a sack of gold tucked away in a corner as well as a small box of deeds, a painting still in good condition hanging on the wall, and some crests.

"Should spruce up the tavern nice." Dismas remarked as he tucked the painting into his pack before taking ownership of some of the gold. "Heh, nice little payday here."

"Quite." Reynauld replied absently as he subtly tucked some coins into the jerkin beneath his armor while his back was turned to the others. "Shall we?"

The group continued down the corridor, Dismas lighting another torch with his flint and steel.

"Makes you wonder jus' 'ow deep this place goes." Dismas muttered, looking about. "Ain't no crypts I ever saw go this deep. Mus' be wot? Couple 'undred feet down by now."

"It is strange." Bellecoat agreed. "Even most city cathedrals wouldn't have catacombs this deep and we haven't see any other burial chambers since the upper floors. Makes one wonder just what the old man was doing down here." She remarked as they came to another door.

Dismas suddenly raised a hand in warning, his sharp ears having picked up on something. Easing open the door slightly he quickly drew back.

"Raisin' more o' the dead, I'd say." He whispered. :"Four of 'em in there, standin' about."

"Then we take them by surprise." Reynauld stated softly. "What kind and where?"

"One wit' a club, another wit' a sword, middle o' the room. Behind 'em a crossbow and one o' the fancy blokes with the nasty cups."

"Lovely." Gerri grumbled.

"Dismas, you take the first shot, hit as many as you can." Reynauld instructed. "Hannah, you hit the two in the back and Gerri you go for the fancy one while I engage the two in front. We'll play it by ear from there. Everyone ready?" He asked.

There were determined nods from everyone.

Reynauld quietly eased the door open as Dismas took aim. As the creatures turned Dismas fired, the grape shot splintering the ribs of the first two and damaging the arbalest as well. The Highwayman ducked, allowing Hannah to throw a plague orb against the back two, the glass shattering against the courtier and the liquid inside splashing against both of them. The creatures hissed in fury as the group raced into the room.

"THE LIGHT STANDS IN JUDGEMENT!" Gerri shouted, pointing her mace in the direction of the courtier. Blazing light shot from it, slamming into the undead and making it scream as parts of its body flew apart, the power channelling back through Gerri and refreshing her while Reynauld unrolled the scroll he had prepared.

"LIGHT TAKE YOU!" Reynauld shouted at the pair of skeletons wielding melee weapons.

Holy energy shot from the scripture, completely overwhelming the club-wielder who instantly turned to ash and dust while the sword-wielder stumbled back with a screech, its body partially disintegrated. Further back the courtier succumbed to Hannah's ruinous blight, its body falling apart.

"Yea that's roit!" Dismas shouted. "Bloody weak you lot are!"

Hissing angrily the arbalest quickly lined up a shot. The arrow flew true, hitting Dismas in the arm as the sword-bearing skeleton suddenly leaped forward, slicing Dismas in the chest, knocking him to the ground.

"Soddin' 'ell! I was kiddin'!" He shouted in pain as Hannah quickly threw a flash powder grenade, the device exploding in the arbalest's face while the other skeleton quickly backed off as Gerri ran forward, placing her hands on Dismas's wounds. "LET THE LIGHT BE YOUR SAVIOR!" She commanded.

Healing power quickly closed his wounds with the Highwayman yanking out the arrow. As the sword-bearer moved to attack them Dismas yanked his pistol from his belt, aiming at both undead. The pistol roared and the grapeshot shattered the undead swordsman with the rest of the shot smashing against the arbalest, destroying it as well.

"Heh, bloody wankers a' still weak." He remarked with a smirk as he got to his feet, making Gerri snicker.

"Interesting." Hannah remarked as she picked through the remains of one of them. "This one was carrying a pouch of herbs. I could use those." She remarked, tucking it into her bag along with some gold she found in another pouch.

Noticing a chest sitting nearby Reynauld used a key to open it, a painting as well as gold, crests, and busts sitting within it.

"Nice haul this is." Dismas remarked with a smile as the loot was distributed out.

Suddenly they heard the clattering of armor beyond the far door.

"Sounds like more company." Dismas said warningly as he reloaded his pistol.

"If we rush them in the hall we stand a better chance." Reynauld stated as he readied his sword.

The others nodded as Reynauld gripped the door's handle. After a moment's pause he flung it open revealing three skeletons, one wearing heavy armor and a buckler, a second bearing a club, and the third wielding a crossbow. Dismas immediately fired, hitting all of them as Hannah threw another plague-filled orb, its contents blighting the arbalest, causing his reflexive shot at Dismas to miss. The club-wielder leaped forward, swinging at Dismas with the weapon but the Highwayman dodged out of the way as Reynauld brought forth his scroll.

"LET THE LIGHT SCOURGE YOU!" He shouted as holy light blazed from it, destroying the skeleton bearing the club and making the shield-bearer screech as parts of its body ceased to exist.

"LIGHT STANDS IN JUDGEMENT!" Gerri declared fervently as she pointed her mace at the shield-bearer, a beam of light slamming into it and damaging it further, its buckler cracking.

Seeing the arbalest readying another shot Hannah threw flash powder against it, blinding it and making it stagger while the shielded skeleton yanked its axe from its belt. Charging past Reynauld it clipped Dismas, slicing open his armored jacket. Dismas was able to dodge at the last moment, sparing himself further injury, before ramming the barrel of his pistol against the creature's head.

"Sod off!" He growled, pulling the trigger.

The shot blasted the creature's skull apart with the remaining slugs cracking the arbalest's collarbones and shoulder joints before Hannah's destructive bacteria completed its work, causing the undead to collapse.

"Well done everyone!" Reynauld complimented with a smile. "Any injuries?"

"Mainly me coat, looks like 'e grazed me a bit wit' that axe." Dismas remarked, noting a flesh wound in his side. "Should be fine."

"I suppose you can send the repair bill to the necromancer once we find him." Hannah snarked.

Picking through the bones she hefted a sack of gold. "Solid weight. I'd say there's about a thousand in here, give or take."

"Blimey, where'd 'e come up with that kinda scratch?" Dismas wondered. "Wot? They savin' for retirement or sumthin'?"

Gerri laughed at this. "Considering they're working even after they're dead I'd say they earned a vacation."

Hannah covered her mask's eye-holes with a gloved hand. "Idiots, the lot of you."

Gerri snickered even more at the Plague Doctor's reaction as they made their way down the hall and into the room the monsters had just vacated. The study was as run down as the rest of the ruins but a bookshelf along the wall still stood with various texts sitting on its shelves. Perusing some of the spines she pulled out a sheaf of papers, examining them carefully.

"Interesting. Seems as though someone was keeping a journal at some point." She remarked curiously.

"What say you Hannah?" Reynauld asked walking over.

The woman brandished the pages briefly in his direction before looking at them again. "Dried blood on the edges of the pages unless I miss my guess. Most of it's illegible but there's a bit here I can read... _'I now find myself back in the warrens among the remains of my companions. My wounds are too severe to allow the completion of our - my task. Thus the desecration must resume another time. Curious, there is a ring in my pocket. Where it came from I cannot begin to guess. Though it bears the sigil of the estate's owner. Very curious._ '"

"He seems rather nonchalant for someone that gravely injured." Gerri remarked in vague puzzlement.

"I'm surprised he had the strength to write at all, never mind the desire." Hannah replied. "What I find curious is the detachment in his voice, at least I assume it's a he. He speaks of desecration as if it were a common enough occurrence. Apparently he and his companions took part in desecrating what they call the Warrens on a somewhat regular basis."

The others looked at each other in confusion.

"Where are these Warrens?" Reynauld asked. "Does anyone know?"

The others shook their heads.

"Something to discuss with Lord Ezekiel later I presume." Reynauld decided. "Anything else Hannah?"

"The fact that the man had a signet ring in his pocket suggests this desecration was done at the behest of the former Lord, or at least he gave them the authority to do it, and yet the man knows nothing of the ring, nor does he remember how he acquired it. Assuming he didn't suffer a blow to the head or something else to give him some sort of amnesia, I could only speculate that some darker purpose was worked upon him. Though what, I could hardly guess. This whole account is very odd, not to mention brief." She muttered, placing the papers in her pack. "Intriguing in the extreme but lacking in details. Hopefully we'll find more of his writings intact."

The group moved on, lighting more torches as they stepped into the hallway. A few feet in Dismas held up a hand before pointing to the floor and a series of thin holes within it.

"You ain't trippin' me up again, you bloody bastard." Dismas remarked as he carefully felt around on the floor for the activation stone.

"Ahh! 'Ere we are." Dismas remarked with a hint of relish as he pulled some tools from his pocket and began to jimmy the stone, prying it upward before tinkering with the mechanism attached to it while Hannah held one of the torches close to provide him with light. With a sudden _clunk_ the inner workings released their tension and Dismas dropped the stone back into place.

"Done!" He remarked happily, replacing his tools in his pocket and dusting off his hands. "It ain't a trap no more!"

As they continued down the long hallway a strange object came into view. A dark and thorny spike seemingly rose up from the floor, a pulsing red orb in the center.

"The altar Al'Bin warned us about." Reynauld stated quietly. "Keep your distance, all of you."

Edging around the obscene structure they entered the next room. Finding it empty they continued on down an adjoining hallway. As Dismas looked about his eye suddenly caught sight of something in the flickering torchlight.

"Oy, 'old up a mo'." He said as he moved towards a section of the wall.

"What is it?" Reynauld asked in concern, following him over with a torch.

"Somethin' odd 'bout this wall." Dismas replied with a frown as he ran his hands over the various cracks and seams in the ancient stonework. "Color was off compared to the rest. Saw somethin'...here." He said intently as his fingers brushed away masonry dust revealing a vertical line carved into the wall approximately six feet high.

"Well, well," Hannah muttered, walking over with the rest, "a doorway?"

"One way t' find out." Dismas replied as he brushed away more dust, slowly revealing the outline of a stone doorway.

"No lock or keyhole." Gerri observed. "Do you just push or pull to open it?"

The two men looked at each other before placing their hands on the door and pushing hard. With the sound of grinding stone the doorway slowly opened revealing a small, dark sepulchre with a stone sarcophagus within, adorned with eldritch figures.

"Bloody mental this thing is." Dismas remarked uneasily as they entered the room. "You sure we wanna be touchin' it? Light knows wot's inside."

Gerri ran her hand over the dusty stone surface with a slight frown of concentration. "I do not sense any malevolent intent or dark power within it." She replied. "I think it is safe to open."

As they examined the lid Reynauld discovered a keyhole near the top. Jiggling it in the hole he felt the lock click open. Easing open the stone top they found the box to be empty save for a trio of large gems that shimmered with rainbow light from the torches. The stones were large and carved in a strange shape with a wide center that slowly tapered into a pair of pointed ends as if two multi-faceted pyramids had been placed base to base against each other.

"I believe these are called Trapezohedrons or Anti-bipyramids." Bellecoat remarked.

"They're beautiful." Gerri said softly in wonderment.

"An' prob'ly worth a fortune to the right buyer." Dismas suggested with a smile.

"Only you would see such lovely things in so banal a light." Gerri remarked reproachfully as they picked them up, placing them in their packs.

A quick check of the room revealed no other baubles so they left and continued on down the hallway. The next few rooms were thankfully empty as they continued deeper and deeper into the necromancer's lair. As they moved down another hall they came across an altar with a praying figure.

"A moment please." Reynauld requested of the others before kneeling at the shrine and pouring a vial of holy water onto it. Cool light emanated from the altar before engulfing Reynauld briefly in a glowing aura before it faded.

"Light be praised." The Crusader murmured.

As they entered the next room Gerri looked up pensively. "He is close!" She murmured to them.

"How close?" Reynauld asked urgently, partially drawing his sword.

"Not far away but I do not think he senses us yet." Gerri replied, her eyes shut as she focused. "The power is dark like the abyss but he is not moving closer."

"We should make use of the moment." Hannah suggested. "Gather our strength before attacking."

Reynauld nodded, putting his blade back and setting up a small campfire in the middle of the room. Sitting about they took time to eat a meal and rest with Dismas stringing up a crude warning system across the doors using metallic debris and twine. They slept undisturbed in the room for a few hours with Gerri casting a blessing on Reynauld.

"May the Light guide your blade to strike true." She intoned quietly, resting her hands on his shoulders as soft light suffused him. "May your armor be light and your feet swift."

"We are ready." Reynauld said in a firm and commanding tone as Gerri stepped back amidst the others. "Before us lies the greatest foe we have fought yet, but he knows nothing of the power and cunning we wield! We have felled his minions with ease, destroyed his connection to the altars he stole, and taken his treasures for our own! He sits there now, a weak spider in a tattered web, and we shall crush him like the insect he is! We shall not fall and we shall not fail for the Light is with us and the Light can never be defeated!"

Everyone felt the dark burden of their journey lift from their shoulders at his zealous speech, their hearts filled with strength and a sense of divine purpose.

"Are you with me my friends? My comrades in arms?" He asked them intently. "Are you prepared to destroy this evil?"

The three nodded firmly.

"Then let us put an end to this foulness!" He declared firmly, walking over to the door and yanking it open.

The group marched swiftly down the hallway, the air becoming darker and tainted with foul energies. Readying themselves at the doorway to the necromancer's sanctum Reynauld wrenched it open, the group charging inside a moment later.

Within the large room, filled with stone arches, was a collection of tables filled with the dead in various states of decay. Tomes and beakers covered other tables and in the center of it all stood a towering figure in robes the color of fresh blood. A collar of spiked iron was around his neck and his deep hood covered his face completely in darkness, its hem stitched with arrows pointing outward in all directions, the universal symbol of Chaos. The figure's hands were wrapped in bloody bandages, the fingers ending in deadly claws, and at its waist was a wide belt that held several scroll cases. Nearby, a skeleton guard holding a sword stood vigil.

"Welcome to my chamber of horrors." The figure stated in a deep and grim voice. "You shall not leave this place alive for I am Death's master! Nightmare made material!"

Reynauld yanked his sword free. "You're nothing but a slave to the Dark, dancing like a puppet on strings! We will cut them loose and cut you down!"

The figure laughed mockingly before racing forward with great speed, rushing past the skeleton and slamming into Reynauld, denting his breastplate before slashing at Dismas with his clawed hands, tearing open coat, shirt, and flesh. Hannah quickly ran forward, orb in hand.

"COVER YOUR EYES!" She shouted, shoving Dismas to the side as she smashed the orb against the necromancer's hood while squeezing her own eyes shut. The powder exploded with a brilliant flash that filled the room, sending the vile creature reeling back with a cry of pain, utterly blinded by the assault, the skeleton also staggered and disoriented. Dismas quickly recovered, charging forward and slashing his dagger across the man's robes, cutting them open and leaving a bleeding slash.

"How d' _you_ like it then?!" He shouted as he jumped back, allowing Reynauld to run forward, his sword biting deep in the creature's side as Gerri readied her own attack.

"LET JUDGEMENT FALL UPON YOU!" She shouted as holy light burst about the figure, making him howl in pain as Dismas leaped forward, stabbing him in the gut.

"That's another one for ya!" He shouted as he yanked the blade free, the wound bleeding profusely.

"Fools!" The figure roared as he raised his hands, casting a spell.

Dark power erupted from his hands and suddenly skeletal hands phased into being around them, attempting to pull them down to the floor which had transformed into grave mud and dirt. At the same moment a prone skeleton on one of the tables came to life, its eye sockets filled with unholy light as it picked up a sword, the first skeletal guardian recovered from the blinding blast. Both of them rushed forward to attack the mortals that had dared to injure their master.

With a rasping cry the guardian slashed at Dismas, sending him to the ground with a terrible wound as he cried out.

Hannah's eyes went wide as she saw Dismas fall yet she suddenly realized the sword had also seemingly phased through the skeletal hands pulling at him without being damaged.

"Illusions!" She exclaimed. "The hands are nothing but illusions! Fight the necromancer, not them!" She shouted as she flung another orb at the ground in front of the skeletons. "EYES SHUT!"

Actinic light flashed across the room like a lightning strike making the creatures screech in pain as they drunkenly stumbled about. Reynauld raced forward, ignoring the skeletons, his blade slicing deep into his foe's arm, nearly cutting it off at the elbow.

"LET THE LIGHT STAND IN JUDGEMENT!" Gerri shouted as a powerful blast of light slammed into the necromancer with physical force, making him cry out as he staggered back, his robes smoldering.

Hannah quickly threw another grenade, this one filled with destructive bacteria, at one of the guardians, the ichor quickly covering the skeleton in living rot.

The necromancer quickly recovered from the attacks and began to summon more power to cast a spell.

Gerri quickly called upon her connection to the Light. "THE LIGHT IS YOUR UNDOING!" She cried, a burst of light shooting forth from her mace, creating an aura around him, disrupting the dark energy as his spell.

"Enough!" The necromancer shouted furiously as his spell dissolved. "Kill the bitch!"

Racing forward, one of the skeletons slipped past the others and leaped onto Gerri, its blade stabbing deep into her body, making her fall with a shriek.

The others looked back in horror, their hearts sinking as the skeleton straddled her prone form, its sword raised high before a terrible determination came over them.

Reynauld shouted a battle cry as his blade smashed into the guardian attacking her, sending bones flying as it scurried away with a scream.

Dismas turned to the robed figure with fury in his eyes. "You've don' it now!" He snarled hatefully.

Racing forward with a furious cry he dodged the skeleton guardian's blade as it attempted to slice his head from his shoulders. Ducking under the fiend's claws Dismas cried out as he buried his dagger in the creature's chest where his heart would be.

The necromancer's hood merely looked down at him mockingly. "Pathetic."

The Highwayman's eyes went wide before the monster backhanded him, sending him flying back along with his dagger. Summoning power the fiend cast another spell with his good hand. The others cried out as the room filled with fog with more skeletons surrounding them, grabbing at their limbs and pulling on their weapons, the fog filling their minds with fear. Another surge of dark energy saw another skeleton rise from one of the tables, arming itself with another sword. The guardians withdrew, forming a triangle of defense around the necromancer, two in front and one in the back.

"Do you still not understand?" The figure asked mockingly in its deep, grim voice, half hidden in fog and darkness. "I have transcended mortality itself! I do not live and die by the laws of nature! Your pitiful weapons can do nothing against me! I shall kill you all and raise your corpses to serve me forever, your souls shrieking in agony for all eternity!"

"You talk too much, you disgusting piece of offal!" Bellecoat shouted defiantly as she threw another plague grenade at him.

The rot splashed against figure, seeping into its robes and the flesh underneath as well as onto the skeleton behind it.

Dismas tore free of the clutching hands, grabbing his dagger from the floor before charging forward, cutting apart pieces of the skeleton before him as the already weakened skeleton behind the necromancer succumbed to the damage dealt to it, crumbling to pieces.

Behind them all Gerri slowly stood, blood covering the front of her robes. Clenching her teeth against the pain she cast a spell upon them all.

"LET THE LIGHT HEAL AND STRENGTHEN YOU!" She cried.

Light bathed the others and while the healing magic infusing them was small, the sound of her voice made their spirits soar. Suddenly they heard the necromancer hiss in fury as he staggered, the wounds he had accumulated as well as the blights he had received finally taking their toll.

"See! He weakens! His strength is naught but illusion! Finish this now!" Reynauld shouted as he ran forward, parrying the remaining skeleton's swipe as he ran towards the necromancer. Blocking the creature's hasty swipe with his gauntlet he let out a yell, burying his blade deep in the fiend's stomach before jerking it upward, making him fall to his knees with a gurgling cry as blood poured from the wound.

Behind him Dismas kept the skeleton at bay with his flashing blade as Hannah strode forward with a plague grenade in her hand. Standing in front of the weakened creature she sneered at him under her mask. "I told the others I would happily bury my scalpel in your brain when this moment came but now I've decided not foul my tools with what little grey matter you have in that head of yours. Die in a puddle of your own filth knowing your can still die you miserable wretch!"

She slammed her hand into the vile monster's hood, shattering the orb against his face. The necromancer screamed as the bacteria ate away at its flesh, devouring its eyes and the brain behind it. A moment later the robed horror collapsed in a heap onto the floor with a quiet gurgle as the skeleton fell lifeless to the floor as well, the will keeping it animated, gone.

Reynauld jerked his blade free before moving quickly to Gerri, steadying her. "We feared you dead when we saw you fall." He murmured.

"I think I can make it, I just hope we don't have to fight anything else getting out of here." She muttered before glancing up at him coyly. "Would you be a gentleman and help me walk?" She asked sweetly.

Reynauld smiled softly. "How could I refuse?" He asked.

Nearby Hannah was searching the robes of the fallen necromancer for anything valuable. Opening one of his pouches she withdrew a bleached skull, the top of it covered with small mushrooms, and a aquamarine stone decorated with whorls and twin pair of four pointed stars lying on top of each other.

"A charm of blight and a stunning stone." She muttered. "Useful indeed." She suggested, hanging them from her belt.

As the others poked about the room Dismas noticed a slightly ajar door near the back. Carefully peeking inside he drew in a sharp breath before motioning the others over.

"What is it Cassius?" Reynauld asked, Gerri supported on his arm.

"I think we found the owner 'o that padlock Towelhead mentioned." He muttered quietly.

Within the room lay a wiry man bound with iron shackles to a stab of stone. He was dressed in rags and his head had been shaved, a large and spiky letter 'A' branded into his forehead.

"Abomination!" Reynauld hissed softly in loathing with Gerri narrowing her eyes in distaste as well.

Dismas eyed the pair of them in silent surprise as Hannah strode forward, examining the man and checking his vitals.

"He still lives but he's suffering from undernourishment and dehydration, not to mention whatever cruelties that thing out there inflicted on him." She said frankly before loosening the chains holding him.

"What are you doing?!" Reynauld asked in alarm. "If you free that thing-"

"He will keep lying there weak and helpless just as he has been for who knows how long!" The Plague Doctor replied sharply, her voice like a cracked whip, looking back at him in disdain. "I was beginning to hold you in some regard Winters, do not make me regret that decision!"

Reynauld frowned darkly at her but nodded brusquely. "Very well. At the very least he should hold some valuable information about what has been going on here."

The others began tying together a makeshift bearer with pieces of wood and twine as Bellecoat freed him from the chains, laying his limp body on the pallet. With Reynauld helping Gerri, Dismas and Hannah carried him slowly back through the catacombs, eventually emerging under the night sky, the stars twinkling brightly overhead.

"Never thought I'd be glad to see the night sky again." Gerri muttered.

Reynauld smiled. "Let's get you home and tend to that wound. We could all use a day or two off after that."

Gerri nodded. "Lead the way my hero." She said charmingly.

Reynauld chuckled with a shake of his head as he lead her down the road to the brightly lit hamlet below.


	13. Inner Darkness

Chapter 12: Inner Darkness

"What troubles you my son?" The priest asked softly, the soft glow of the candle sitting upon the small table between them throwing shadows across the walls of the room, making them dance to the tune of the small flame's movements.

"This whole soddin' business troubles me." Dismas replied softly in an aggravated tone. "We bloody kill the fucker responsible for all the crazy shite goin' on below that church and then the soddin' bastard has the gall to say we ain't done yet!"

The priest nodded thoughtfully, his half-lit face calm. "You believed your duty would be over when the necromancer was dispatched."

"Well it sure seemed like it, didn' it?" He asked anxiously, rubbing his hands fretfully together. "I ain't never seen shite like that and I thought once we finished 'em off we'd be done with it all! Go 'ome, back to an honest livin' where things be normal!"

"You fear what is to come?"

"Look mate, I seen a lot of shite in my day an' lots of it nasty but I ain't never seen shite like this! All them bones and bodies walkin' about like it ain't nothin' and coming at ya down them dark as shite corridors...it ain't NATURAL!" He cried, the fear bright in his dark eyes as he half stood in protest before sinking back down into the old chair, his hands covering his face.

"T'ain't...t'ain't natural." He murmured mournfully from within his hands.

The priest sighed softly in empathy with the man. The horrors visited upon the hamlet and the nearby ruins had left its mark on all of the townspeople but to see such unholy manifestations walking about boldly with one's own eyes was enough to drive even hardened men to fearful flight with a scream on their lips. That this man had faced them numerous times and even stood before the inhuman monster that had begat them was a testament to his strength of will and courage.

But even courageous men have their limits.

The robed man stood, stepping forward and resting a gentle hand of encouragement on the former Highwayman's shoulder.

"Cassius…"

The raven-headed man looked up, his eyes begging for reassurance. A sight he saw far too often.

"I cannot say what the future will hold for you or for all of us, but I do know that the Light has never failed those who believe in its power and hold true to its tenets. I know that you have done your best to put your past behind you and the fact that you have faced these monsters with such courage and strength is astonishing. The Light does not forget such sacrifices and neither do we. Do you know what people say to me when they visit me?" He asked.

Dismas shook his head.

"They say to me how brave you are for standing up to the Darkness that resides here. How you inspire them to take better care of the hamlet and themselves for in you they see a mighty man of valor."

"I ain't no Crusader." He muttered gloomily, looking towards the floor.

"Not all Crusaders of the Light wear the holy armor and wield a sword." The Priest reminded him gently. "Warriors of the Light come in all shapes and sizes. And you my son, are indeed a Warrior of the Light. Let no one tell you otherwise. You have strength in you, far more than most men, and you have courage that few possess. Do not think that because your heart quailes upon reflection of your enemies that your courage has fled. Your mind and body are weary and need rest, time to recuperate. Let others stand on the front line for now while you recover. It will not be long before you are ready to charge into battle again, your heart filled with zeal for the task before you."

Dismas gave him a wan smile and a chuckle. "Twasn't bad. Almost as good as Andre, ye are. Few days off might be just th' ticket though."

Standing slowly Dismas nodded in thanks before making his way out of the room. As his steps faded the Priest slowly sat down in the chair again with a tired sigh, his body and mind worn as he closed his eyes.

"Father Branigen." A sudden voice murmured.

The Priest's eyes shot open, his hands instinctively gripping the arms of the chair as he beheld a cloaked figure suddenly standing before him, its head and body covered by the shadows and a robe with a deep hood. Its hands held a slim metallic container covered in strange markings that it methodically turned.

"Did I waken you Father?" A feminine voice asked in quiet, cool amusement. "Do forgive me. I was under the impression you were...expecting me."

The candlelight made the object in her hands shine like broze as she turned it, the marks glinting crimson in the soft glow.

"As it is I had to let myself in." The figure continued with a hint of reproach in her voice. "I hope I haven't... _disturbed_ you." She suggested in a lightly mocking tone.

Gathering his wits he peered closer at the cloaked woman. "Vestal Palle?"

"You've named me." The woman replied with a nod.

Internally breathing a sigh of relief he straightened in the chair. "Won't you sit?" He offered, gesturing with a hand before folding his hands in his lap.

"No thank you, the darkness makes me...restless." She replied vaguely as her fingers slid along the outside of the canister she held, tracing the engraved runes.

Seeing the movement he looked at it with renewed focus. "Might I ask what it is you carry?" He asked.

The woman chuckled mirthlessly. "I carry many things within me Father Branigen. But if you refer to this…" She held up the canister with a hand to display it more prominently, "it is what began my journey many years ago. It is the source of my curse. Should I not carry it with me wherever I go?"

"Your curse?" He asked with a frown.

She nodded gravely before leaning forward, allowing the candlelight to spill onto her face, bathing it in a soft hue. Straight blonde hair framed a lean pale face. One of her eyes was an intense blue, the other a yellowish-green with orange spikes radiating from around the iris.

The man tensed upon seeing this causing the woman to nod grimly.

"You understand." She nodded, drawing her face back into the shadows. "The sign of the burden I bear within me, of the Darkness that struggles within me. Always yearning to be free, to take control. But the Light gives me the strength to manage it so long as my faith is true." She said.

She gazed at him silently for a moment before she spoke again. "Where is the Lord of the Manor?" She asked bluntly. "I would alert him to my arrival."

"I believe he will be in the tavern with the others." The Priest replied.

She nodded. "Then I will not tarry longer. Good night Father." She said flatly as she turned to leave.

"Go with the Light's grace, Vestal." Branigen said quietly.

The figured paused, the hooded head turning a bit to look back at him. "It is by the Light's grace that I still live, Father." She replied in a faintly bitter tone. "Though I often wonder whether that grace is a blessing or its own curse."

Turning away she strode through the door, leaving the Priest alone with the candle and his thoughts.

Making her way back up the stairs and through the rows of benches she exited the main doors in time to see the sun setting, a brilliant orange against the treeline of the distant forest. Grimacing at the thought of the coming of night time she made her way down the steps and headed towards the hamlet and its tavern, the canister attached to her belt by a slim rope swinging as she walked. Already she could hear the disgruntled mutterings and mocking tones of the townspeople in her mind, the Darkness within her mocking her softly as it often did. Glaring in frustration at the dirt road she forced her eyes upward, setting her face like flint before entering the tavern and taking a look around. The room was brightly lit with about a dozen people in attendance, most sitting near the middle of the room around a primly dressed young man who could only be the Lord. Conversation slowly quieted as the various patrons turned to look at the new arrival in brown robes. She gazed back cooly at each of them, daring anyone to say something.

"Good evening my Lady." Charles called out to her. "Won't you join us?"

Nodding curtly she stepped into the room and carefully made her way to the table where he sat. A black-haired muscular man stood up, offering his seat courteously. The Darkness laughed hissingly in her mind, offering up the suggestion that he was merely trying to get into her good graces, and perhaps even into her clothes with such an offering before she squashed it ruthlessly, nodding to him before sitting and facing the Lord of the Manor. She saw him and the others start slightly as they beheld her face and her cursed eye before the dark-haired man pulled over another chair to sit nearby while Charles called for a plate of food and a glass of wine for her.

"You are one of the Sisters if I am not mistaken." Charles prompted carefully.

The woman nodded shortly. "Vestal Maryanne Palle of the Sisterhood of St. Martha." She said by way of introduction.

Charles nodded. "Welcome to our humble town. I am Charles Ezekiel, Lord of this place as you have no doubt surmised. The man who gave up his seat for you is Crusader Reynauld Winters from the Order of St. George. Ms. Gerri Boutina is another Sister whom you might know." He mentioned as he looked around, trying to locate her while the others made their rounds introducing themselves. She nodded curtly to each one, receiving wary looks in return before looking back at Lord Ezekiel.

"I have come on the order of my Mother Superior to assist you in your endeavor." She informed him. "She felt that given my...intimate experience with the Dark and its arts I would be useful here. Of course I saw through that rather flimsy facade fairly quickly." She muttered with a sideways glare.

Charles blinked at this in vague surprise. "I beg your pardon?"

Palle snorted in annoyance before looking back at him. "I don't mean you and your cause of course, though I could be wrong. I was merely speaking of my lovely Mother Superior." She explained nastily. "I know exactly why she sent me here."

"You obviously believe her motives to be different than what she said. Might we know your thoughts?" Charles asked.

Maryanne gazed at him flatly, her green and orange-spiked eye focused on him. "The true reason is obvious. She wants me gone."

"Gone?" Charles prompted carefully.

"Gone from the Priory at the very least." Palle replied frostily. "No doubt gone from existence as well if it could be managed. I have no doubt she expects me to find my end here and trouble her no more."

Charles frowned deeply at this. "Forgive me, but what makes you think that your superior sent you here to die?"

"Because she hates me." Maryanne stated plainly with cold conviction. "Because I disturb her lovely, ordered view of the world. Because I do not act as a Sister should act, and because I am tainted by the Darkness. In her mind such an unholy thing as me should not exist in her holy sanctuary lest its influence spread to the other Sisters."

"I find it very strange that the Dark could taint a true Sister of the Light." Reynauld suggested with a frown.

"I don't recall asking for your opinion regarding my faith." She said snidely. "If you need proof of my abilities you will have them soon enough, especially if what I was told was happening here is true."

Reynauld held up his hands peacefully. "I was not trying to imply you faith was suspect."

"Would'a thought the bloody eye would'a been clue enough." Dlsmas muttered quietly from the other table.

"If you wish I can use my powers to determine the truth of this matter." Jacques suggested from nearby as he stood up.

"As if I would let you touch me with your foul sorcery!" Maryanne retorted, glaring at him. "The last thing I wish is to have the demons inside me strengthened by the likes of you and your foul magics!"

Al'Bin frowned at this as he sat down, muttering into his plate.

Bellecoat watched the byplay with a critical eye but chose to remain silent with Francine doing the same before Charles intervened.

"Let us all try to enjoy our meal before we adjourn to my office and discuss our next objective." He suggested firmly, looking about at everyone. "I would not have us squabbling amongst each other like this."

Huffing, Palle nodded before focusing on her plate with the rest doing the same. A short while later found the group gathering everyone from about the town before trekking back to the estate house with everyone finding a seat, though Charles noticed that space was becoming something of a premium.

 _At this rate we will need to use the formal dining room to seat everyone for these meetings._ He thought to himself as he seated himself behind his desk.

"We have made significant progress recently with the death of the Necromancer and his minions." Charles said approvingly. "You have all done well to help vanquish this evil and the Cathedral is more quiet as a result. However, our fight is far from over and we must not become complacent." He warned, glancing about at them before picking up the discolored book the group had brought back from their recent excursion and holding it up.

"I have examined the pages in this diary that was recovered from the labyrinth below the Cathedral. Its pages indicate a series of underground tunnels referred to as the 'Warrens'. At the moment we do not know where they might lie or what might reside within them but we cannot let this matter lie. To that end we must first locate them. Does anyone wish to volunteer?" He asked.

"Ah know the lands round about well enough." Mortimer replied. "An' findin' folk who don't wish ta be found is mah speciality. Ah'll find tha' place." He assured him.

Dismas nodded as well. "Seems like an easy job for once. I'll tag along, keep 'im covered."

Charles nodded. "Very well. If you should learn about what creatures reside there observe them and report back. Do not try to engage them." He instructed firmly.

The two men nodded before Charles turned to the others. "As everyone has seen we have a new ally who joined us this evening. Please make Vestal Palle from the Sisterhood of St. Martha feel welcome."

There was smattering of light applause at this.

"Does anyone have anything they wish to bring to the group's attention while we are here?" He asked.

Hannah stood. "The man we discovered in the Necromancer's laboratory is recovering well." She reported. "He is conscious and is continuing to build up his strength. When he is recovered it is my hope that he will be able to provide some insight as to what occurred there as well as what has been happening in the surrounding countryside."

"Man? You mean beast!" Reynauld remarked sharply. "I for one would be quite content to let him remain unconscious and weak!"

"As I recall you were the one who suggested he might have valuable information when we found him." Bellecoat remarked tartly. "If you despise him so much or think him so useless why did you not run him through with your blade when you had the chance? Of course if you truly wish to press the issue I suppose you still can. You know where my apothecary is."

"Have you no understanding of what he is?" Reynauld asked incredulously. "This is no innocent man, caught and tortured by the Necromancer for some twisted amusement! He is a hell-creature! An experiment! A monster that will devour us all should he be released and his strength returned! Would you risk all that we have endured and worked for these many weeks to show pity to one who does not deserve it?!" He asked, looking around at the others.

Maryanne felt her ire rise as her mind churned with dark thoughts before she stood up to challenge him. "And who are you to decide who deserves pity and who deserves death?" She asked sharply. "When last I looked Lord Ezekiel ruled this land, not you! You say that such a tainted man as that should taste your blade? Then strike me down as well!" She insisted furiously.

The group muttered in alarm as Palle strode over to him, her mismatched eyes glaring at him piercingly.

"You are like all the others I have met in my time!" She declared hotly. "Just like the other Crusaders! Just like my own Mother Superior! So full of yourself! So sure that you are always right that you cannot believe anyone would dare not take your advice or counsel! Does the Light speak to you directly? Does it whisper in your ear what it's divine will is? I think not! But if you think such a person deserves only death then strike me down as well for I am just as tainted as he!"

Winters took a step back in shock at her tirade as the others looked on.

"I know better than most what it is like to be thought of as an Abomination." She told them bluntly, her spiked eye boring into Winters. "And while there are days I long for death to take me from this wretched existence I also know the Light keeps me here for a purpose! So do not be so quick to deal out death in judgement of others Winters! No one here can see the end of all of life's pathways, not even you! If that man she cares for deserves death then so do I!" She declared with finality, staring at him unblinkingly and challenging him to dispute her words.

Unable to stand before her strange eyes and passionate speech Reynauld swallowed softly before turning his gaze downward. "You are right Lady Palle." He said softly. "You have humbled me and rightly so. I was a fool to speak as I did, then and now, about you and him." He slowly knelt before her on one knee. "Thought I do not deserve it I ask for your forgiveness."

Palle's eyes narrowed at this, her mind a whirling tornado of fury and surprise before she finally reigned it in.

"I know how hard it is for a man to admit to being wrong." She said in a clipped tone. "Even more so to kneel before a woman and ask forgiveness. Fury still storms within my chest as the demons within would like nothing better than to tear you apart to rid the world of another Crusader. They even whisper that you give them and me the perfect excuse to do so! Yet I hold them back with the chains of my mind and soul. I forgive you Winters but you will need to do much more to earn my trust and respect. Prove to me and to this man that you are more than just arrogance in a suit of armor."

Reynauld nodded before slowly getting to his feet. "I shall endeavor to do so but I must admit it will not be easy." He admitted. "All of my life I have been trained to fear and despite such cre-men as he."

Maryanne gave him a cool smile. "Then you must unlearn what you have learned." She said before turning about and seating herself in her chair.

The Crusader let out a quiet breath and sat down as the others looked about at each other.

"Well it seems we have a bonfire in our midst." Bellecoat suggested with a smirk. "I for one will be very interested in making your acquaintance."

"Oh bloody 'ell there's two of 'em." Dismas groaned. "We ain't gonna survive two razor-tongued wenches! One was bad enough!"

"Say that again to my face sir!" Palle insisted, fixing her gaze on him.

"Please! Let us have peace!" Charles insisted. "If you must squabble please do it privately but I would hope that we could get to know each other a little better before starting such fights!"

Maryanne glared at Charles for a moment before smoothing out her expression. "As you wish my Lord." She replied flatly.

Dismas merely shivered from being held under the woman's unnatural gaze as Charles continued. "I do not know what sins the man you found may have committed or what his true nature is, but I will not condemn him without hearing him out first and learning more about him." He insisted. "Now, are there any other matters that need to be brought to our attention?"

Looking about the others shook their heads. Nodding, Charles stood. "Then I bid you all a good night."

As the others filed out of the room Maryanne walked over to where Bellecoat and Dyella stood.

"Take me to him." She requested. "I would speak with him."

Bellecoat gazed at her in thoughtful consideration for a moment. "He's still fairly weak and he most certainly will not be able to withstand a diatribe like the one you just gave." She informed the other woman.

Maryanne snorted. "I have no intention of unleashing my tongue on him unless he decides to be spiteful to me first."

"Fine. But if I tell you to leave, you leave. Understand?" She asked firmly, not budging an inch as she stared down the Vestal, unfazed by her mismatched eyes.

Maryanne stared at her for a moment before nodding in grudging respect.

"Good. Follow me." She instructed before leading the blonde woman out of the office.

The pair made their way downstairs and outside the Lord's house. Walking to the apothecary a few streets away Hannah gestured her inside. Looking about the spartan but brightly lit rooms the Plague Doctor walked over to a nearby room with a solid iron door.

"You keep him contained in a cell?" Maryanne asked curtly. "And here I thought you were an actual Doctor."

Hannah gave her a disparaging look. "In case you haven't noticed all the doors in this place are metal. Presume upon the Crusader and his ilk all you like but I've done nothing to merit your scorn unless you hate everyone equally." She sniped.

"Not everyone." Palle replied bluntly. "Just the vast majority."

Bellecoat snorted as she quietly opened the door, moving the slab of metal silently on well-oiled hinges allowing the Vestal to step inside before shutting it to give her privacy.

Looking about the room was small and bare except for a table and bed upon which rested a wiry bald man with a gaunt and tanned face. His wrists were wrapped in poulticed bandages as were his ankles and he was dressed in a simple green tunic and earth brown pants. Upon his forehead was a branded letter 'A'.

Stepping forward softly so as not to disturb him she stretched out a hand allowing her fingertips to brush against the letter burnt into his skin, her cursed eye focused upon him.

 _FLASH_

Scenes of violence and beastial anger surged across her mind's eye for an instant before her wrist was caught in an iron grip. Gasping in surprise she refocused on the man before her. He held her arm fast as he stared at her suspiciously with narrowed dark eyes.

"A Vestal Sister dares to touch me? My goodness, now I can die happy having seen everything." He grumbled in a gruff baritone voice.

Maryanne schooled her features forcibly, making them and her tone calm. "My apologies for intruding and taking such...liberties with your person. If you please, I would like my hand back."

The man thrust it away as if it had been scalding hot before he carefully sat up, his glare still in place. "What do you want?" He asked in a put out tone.

Maryanne raised a slim eyebrow at his rudeness but forced herself to stay calm. "I merely wished to see you for myself. The Doctor indicated you were under her care and I wanted to ensure you were being well-treated."

The man snorted at this. "Since when does a Vestal care about an Abomination's well-being?" He asked disdainfully.

"Is that what you are?" She asked.

He gave her a flat look. "I daresay the mark on my head speaks for itself. Or are you wanting more proof that I am evil incarnate?" He asked mockingly.

Maryanne gazed at him impassively, recalling the visions she had seen. "No. I have all the proof I need that evil has taken its hold on you. But i wish you to know that I bear you no malice."

"How kind of you." He snarked. "Was there something else you wanted? As you can see they are not torturing me or holding me against my will."

"You desire solitude?" She asked.

"I am certainly used to it by now and it's generally safer than being in crowds. People tend to break out in pitchforks and torches when they see someone like me nearing their homes."

"And yet, here you are being cared for." Maryanne remarked. "Does that not strike you as significant?"

"I must admit I am surprised by it. By rights I should be dead by now."

"Then why not give them, and me, a chance?" She suggested. "After all, we are giving you one and by your own admission that is a rare thing."

The man gazed at her coolly for a moment before laying back down. "Good night." He said dismissively.

Pursing her lips in annoyance she turned about and left the room, shutting the door behind her. Hannah leaned against the opposite wall with her arms crossed under her chest.

"I trust your meeting was successful?" She asked idly.

"About as successful as I could have expected, given who he is and who I am." Palle replied blandly.

"And who is he?" Hannah asked. "He's barely spoken since he woke and besides asking for food or water he hasn't said anything else."

"I didn't get his name, obviously, but I was able to confirm the mark upon his forehead was not done out of misplaced hatred or political expediency. A dark and powerful creature lurks within him."

"And you know this how?" Hannah asked with a hint of challenge.

"I saw into his mind and soul. I saw the creature that he wrestles with and the primal anger that infuses him." She replied. "He is genuine."

"And you saw this through your 'cursed eye' I suppose?" Hannah suggested with a cool frown.

Maryanne frowned in annoyance at this before sweeping forward towards the door.

"Does your discovery change your mind about him?" Hannah asked idly as she pushed off the wall. "About whether he deserves death?"

"Hardly." Palle sniffed. "He is not the only one who has been mistreated for circumstances beyond their control."

"You see in him a kindred spirit then?" Bellecoat suggested.

Palle shook her head in annoyance. "I would hardly call him that though we share some common experiences I would think."

"And?" The Doctor prodded.

The Vestal gave her a thin smile. "You wish for him to speak about what he knows. I may be able to use that connection to our advantage."

Hannah hummed thoughtfully, her sharp gaze focused on the woman.

"By the way," Hannah remarked as the blonde woman reached the door, "what did I do to earn your respect?"

"What?" Maryanne asked in confusion, turning back to look at her.

"Back at Ezekiel's office. I couldn't help but notice after our little talk." Hannah elaborated.

The Vestal was silent for a moment before she spoke. "You were able to stare into my eyes and not flinch or wilt. That alone makes you worthy of some respect from me." Palle said frankly. "There are few who have such courage."

"It takes more than oddly colored eyes to frighten me." Bellecoat replied.

"Listen." She said, taking a step forward. "This bunch here isn't perfect and if I'm perfectly frank I have to include myself too. But we're doing the best we can to give these people hope and drive out the Darkness here, even it means working with people we aren't used to. You saw Winters back there; that's the first time I've ever seen him kneel to anyone. A minute ago you asked him to give us a chance." Bellecoat said, jerking a thumb back towards the room. "Why not take your own advice and give us a chance also."

Palle gazed at her in consideration for a moment. "Good night Doctor Bellecoat." She said with quiet respect as she left.


	14. The Warrens

A\N: This chapter contains mature content.

Chapter 13: The Warrens

 _Several days later…_

"'Bout bloody time we 'ad some success." Dismas groused as he and Mortimer stood near a rough-hewn tunnel entrance carved into the side of the hill as the sun set around them.

The pair had been searching the surrounding land around the hamlet for days, often trekking through the edges of the dark forest nearby. It had been tiring work but simple and thankfully they had remained unmolested by any of the forest's denizens during their search. Finally they had found the partially vine-covered tunnel hewn into the hill itself.

"Ah thought ye were happy ta have this job." Mortimer remarked idly as he examined the dark entrance from which a pungent odor emanated. "Phoof! Smells like ah sewer full o' rotten meat!" He exclaimed in disgust, covering his face with his scarf.

"I ain't goin' down in that muck, that's for sure." Dismas insisted, covering his own face with his scarf. "Priest was right, I need me a few days relaxin'." He said in a muffled voice.

Suddenly the slapping of flesh against stone echoed from within the tunnel.

"Move!" Mortimer ordered in a hushed tone as the pair scurried back to the treeline nearby, kneeling in the dense brush to hide themselves.

A few moments later two figures appeared from within the tunnel entrance, apparently speaking to one another in a guttural and primitive language. Both were porcine in nature with one being only about two feet tall the other being easily as tall as a man. They both walked on their hind legs and had pale, pasty-colored flesh, the taller one having a primitive drum slung against its body by a strap. As the two men looked closer they could see that both of the creatures wore primitive loincloths and other strange coverings made from animal bones. Their eyes were sharp and beady and their mouths were filled with razor sharp teeth as well as a pair of tusks.

"Let's go!" Mortimer whispered to Dismas who nodded quickly. Slinking away deeper into the forest they quickly made their way back to town to report as darkness closed in around them.

* * *

Reynauld kept his eyes closed as the woman tied a silky cloth around his head, covering his eyes completely and leaving him blinded, the pair of them in one of the private rooms in the basement of the tavern.

"I never dared to dream I would have a Crusader in my company." The woman murmured in soft anticipation. "Surely you must be breaking some rule to come to me. To spend time with a lady of my _proclivities_."

Reynauld smiled at this. "It might surprise you to learn that the Church doesn't mind such things. Men have needs and an unmarried man even more so. We are expected to hold ourselves to a high standard of behavior, however, even when in such _exciting_ company."

The woman hummed in amused thought.

"Why, exactly, did you cover my eyes?" He asked mildly.

"To make things more... _exciting_ of course." The woman replied in a low, amused voice. "A man simply taking a woman as he desires is so...dull and uninteresting. But a woman you cannot see, who has power over you even if it is only for a brief time, ahh now that is something unusual, isn't it?" She suggested enticingly.

He felt her hands slide across his tunic-covered shoulders and down his back.

"Such a confident man and yet so tense." She murmured. "Do you fear I will betray you? Stab you in the back? Fear not my Crusader," she whispered softly into his ear, "the last thing I want is for any harm to come to you."

The woman smiled behind her black veil as she trailed her hand along his shoulders before she moved to stand in front of him. Deftly, her hands began to slowly loosen the cords holding his tunic closed. Pulling the garment free she slowly slid it off his body to reveal his muscular chest and arms. The woman's breath caught softly as she took a moment to admire him. Since the day she had first laid eyes on him she had wanted him, the desire within her burning desperately, longing to see what lay beneath that armor.

"Ahh, such a powerful and strong body. I look forward to exploring every inch." She murmured in a slow, seductive tone.

"And when will it be my turn?" He asked with a hint of impatience.

"Fear not my handsome warrior, you shall have all the time in the world to know me just as intimately." She promised him as she slid her finger tips slowly along his muscular arms. "Any woman can spread their legs for a man and lay there while he takes her. So unsophisticated...so boring." She murmured as she trailed her fingers down his chest, teasing his flat nipples as she did.

"I have always thought that such banal actions insult both the man and the woman." She continued as she moved her veil aside to plant kisses across his chest while her fingers stroked his sides. "After all, it reduces the man to nothing more than a mindless beast and the woman nothing but a receptacle for his... _emissions_." She breathed as her lips trailed down his washboard stomach, her fingers sliding along his flanks.

"But you and I...we are more than beasts and vessels." She murmured intently as she loosened the straps of his trousers, sliding them down his legs as she knelt in front of him to reveal his linen undershorts. "You are a man of integrity, a man of honor." She murmured as she stroked the bulge in the cloth before her. "And I," she said as she took hold of the shorts and slowly slid them down, "I am a much more... _active_ participant." She whispered fiercely as she encircled him with her fingers, stroking surely and swiftly to arouse him even further before taking him into her mouth and pleasuring him for several moments.

Reynauld gasped softly as she used her mouth and hands on his most intimate places, her fingers teasing the insides of his thighs as her mouth worked his arousal into a burning flame. He felt her hands explore his muscular legs, planting soft kisses against the scars she found from his recent excursions. A few moments later she stood up. Reynauld could hear the rustle of cloth as she began removing the veil that had covered her head and face as well as the lacy black petticoat and skirt that had covered the rest of her. He heard the garments softly hit the floor and then the swish of soft cloth as the mystery woman removed the gossamer shift that clung to her body.

"Now," she murmured as she took his hands in hers, "it is your turn." She said as she rested his hands on her bare shoulders.

Stepping out of the clothes piled around his ankles he stepped closer to her, sliding his hands slowly to her chest. He cupped the large orbs he felt there between his fingers and squeezed gently, slowly getting to know them and feeling their firmness before teasing their peaks with his thumbs. Not wanting to appear as a mindless beast to her he moved his hands upward to stroke her firm shoulders before sliding his finger tips up her neck, his hands cupping her slightly round face. Pulling her close he pressed his lips against hers, kissing her slowly and deeply, her long hair falling about his hands like a curtain. The woman kissed him back with slow, deep passion as she clung to him, something warm and firm pressing against her lower stomach as their chests pressed together.

Pulling back slightly she hummed in appreciation. "No mindless beast are you." She agreed. "But before the night is over I will make you become one." She promised him, making him ache for her even more.

Time passed slowly as Reynauld's hands slid over every inch of the woman's firm body from the smoothness of her hair to her firm ankles and everything in between. He delighted in the soft gasps he elicited from her as his hands discovered the planes of her back and the firm roundness below it. Her stomach that filled out just the right amount and the soft folds that held her innermost treasures. She in turn made the fires of his passion burn deep and hot as her expert and exploring hands touched him in just the right places at just the right moments, one second tender and curious, the next making him pant with need as she teased him with her fingers and tongue. At last, when he was nearly mad with desire, she allowed him to perform the ultimate act of intimacy upon her. The two of them moaned with pleasure as they came together like a key in a lock, their bodies moving hard and fast until they both climaxed with cries of release and exultation. Finally they laid together entwined, his eyes still covered by the blindfold, as she kissed him softly on the lips once more.

"That was amazing." She murmured. "I will be here whenever you wish to have me, my ferocious beast."

The Crusader could not help but shiver at the delicious tone with which she bestowed his title upon him. "And who shall I ask for?" He said. "I don't even know your name."

"My name is not important." The woman replied softly after a pause. "But know that I am the only one who dresses as I do."

"Widow." Reynauld said suddenly.

"Hmm?" She asked.

"You dress in black and lace as a widow does. Shall that be your name or do I do you a disservice calling you that?"

"Hmm...no, it is fitting in a way." She agreed thoughtfully. "I have never been married but like the spider of the same name I am cunning and mysterious. I shall be Widow then."

"I've also heard that black widows eat their mates." Reynauld said in half jest.

"Well I have...fed on you a great deal tonight have I not?" She asked teasingly. "Has not my mouth been _all over you_? _Devouring_ every inch of you?" She asked in a sultry tone. "Perhaps the next time we come together I shall truly... _taste you_." She whispered in her ear.

The Crusader could only moan in response.

* * *

Charles was sitting in his office as evening deepened, approving some expenditures for fixing up several of the other buildings in town when Mortimer and Dismas entered with a knock.

"Ah, gentlemen. Good evening." He said pleasantly as they came to stand before his desk. "I trust you found what we sought?" He asked.

"Aye, tha' we did." Mortimer stated. "Tis a tunnel carved into the hillside about a mile and a half down tha' way near tha' forest's edge. Disgustin' stench be comin' from it and more than tha' besides."

"Bunch o' bloody pigmen runnin' 'round down there." Dismas continued. "Walkin' on two legs like it ain't nothin' and yammerin' about in some bloody swine dialect. They even wear animal bones for Light's sake! Bunch of bloody savages they are!"

"Dangerous lookin' as well." Mortimer suggested gruffly. "These ah no friendly piggies lad. More like boars if ah ever saw one. Me family owned a pig farm years back now. Bludgers breed quick an' often they do. No tellin' 'ow many are down there."

Charles took this all in with a grim frown, his hands steepled together before his face. "No doubt they breed quickly, down there in the dark. But perhaps we can slay them even faster." He muttered before looking up at them firmly. "Call everyone together, we must decide who will engage them first."

The two men nodded before turning about and leaving the room. Charles continued to sort out the estate's affairs while everyone slowly trickled in. A short while later the room was filled to the brim once again.

"Mortimer and Dismas have located the entrance to the Warrens and have spied some of its denizens." Charles informed them. "They appear to be boars or swine that walk upon two legs and are capable of fashioning primitive clothes and armor for themselves. Needless to say if they can do such things it is no stretch to imagine that they can create weapons and understand how to fight."

He looked about at them all before continuing. "We are in a war against the Darkness and the resources it has at its beck and call have just grown. To prosecute our war against the swine we must first scout their squalid homes. This will be a short sortie but given that this is new hostile territory I would ask that people of military experience be included in the party."

Ernest and Edith nodded sharply at this.

"I will go as well." Jonas offered. "They will need someone with some experience in these matters."

Charles nodded. "Make sure to get your armor reinforced before you go, assuming you haven't already." He looked about at the others. "Godfried will be able to repair or reinforce anything you might need, at least to some degree." He admitted with a smile. "I'm trying to allocate resources to get him better materials and tools but it's slow going with the rest of the town needing repairs as well. We just got one of the meditation and prayer rooms in the Abbey fixed up."

"Ye'll do right by us lad." Mortimer said stoutly. "Ah've faith in ye."

Charles inclined his head in thanks. "Mortimer can guide the group to the entrance and keep watch if need be. Does anyone else wish to volunteer for this mission?"

"I will go." Maryanne offered. "I would see these horrors first hand and you will need my skills as a healer."

Charles nodded. "Very well then. You leave in the morning. Light's blessing go with you."

* * *

The next morning Mortimer led the four to the tunnel entrance.

"Ugh! You were right about the stench." Maryanne remarked disgustedly as she wrapped a cloth around her face, covering her nose.

"About as bad as the stench of a battlefield after the fighting's done." Ernest agreed with a frown.

"Good luck to ye." Mortimer said before returning to the treeline.

Jonas looked at the others. "Everyone is as ready as they can be, I presume?" He asked from behind his mask.

The other three nodded.

Jonas pulled a torch from his pack and lit it before entering the tunnel, Ernest following after him. Maryanne stepped into the rough entrance a moment later with Edith bringing up the rear. The group walked carefully along the uneven stones, their boots and armored feet echoing down the long passageway. As they moved deeper into the underground the clatter of brick and stone gave way to squelching noises and splashes with the scent of putrid meat and fetid blood growing even stronger, making Maryanne and Jonas nearly retch from the stench.

"Gods I pray we aren't down here long!" The man murmured miserably. "I shan't be able to look at food without feeling ill!"

"Stout heart, son. You get used to it after a while." Ernest replied grimly.

The tunnel finally widened into a larger corridor of stone slabs occasionally lit by a group of smoky candles made from animal fat, the floor covered with a sluice of watery blood and excrement. The sound of clattering stone could be heard in the distance and every so often a porcine squeal would echo down the corridor. As they moved further in Jonas spied a wooden crate sitting against the wall. Breaking it open with a mailed fist he found a pair of small paintings inside.

"Does that happen often?" Edith asked in surprise as Jonas stowed them away in his pack.

"You'd be surprised." He remarked before motioning them onward.

Suddenly a sharp click sounded from under his heel.

Blood and water sprayed everywhere as a pair of spinning circular saw blades surged up from the floor. Jonas stumbled with a cry as the blades bit into his leg, grinding against his armor and cutting open tender flesh before retracting into the floor once again, blood flowing freely from his thigh.

"Damn and blast!" He cursed as he quickly pulled a roll of bandages from his pack and wound it around the wound, cinching it tight.

Are you alright?" Edith asked in concern.

"Fine." He groaned, wincing beneath his mask as he carefully walked forward.

"The beasts know how to create traps of frightening ingenuity." Ernest considered with a dark frown as he stroked his white beard. "This doesn't bode well."

"Apparently they are not as primitive as those two thought." Palle remarked unhappily.

"Or they had help." Edith suggested, the dark-skinned woman tugging at a tuft of her hair.

Coming to a simple door that was seemingly built by tying several long strips of lumber together Jonas opened it and stepped inside. Within the room stood four of the disgusting creatures. They immediately spun with snarls on their faces allowing the others to view them clearly. The first was a large and muscular boar-like creature with spiked white fur trailing down its head and spine. Its tusks were equally large and across its chest and stomach was strapped a round metal buckler. Its lower body was covered in rags and strips of cloth with its forearms covered in coiled chains and primitive metal bracers, a spiked ball and chain gripped in one hand and a massive cleaver festooned with rusted and bloody spikes in another. The second beast was even more frightening to look upon with its wiry body naked but for a filthy loincloth and a helm with bug-like eyes and spikes about its neck that covered its head like an insanity mask. Its left forearm had been cut off at the wrist with a rusted and bloody hook bolted to the stump in its place and a buckler of chain and wood was strapped to its right arm. The third was a wide-jowled creature with large tusks and a crescent staff upon its back. Around its neck was slung a primitive drum of wood and human skin, a pair of long bones held in its hands to act as drumsticks. The last was a surprisingly short and seemingly weaker swine. At least half the size of the others the wretch's naked body was riddled with sores and pustules.

"Light preserve us!" Jonas exclaimed in fear as he immediately drew his sword while Ernest readied his mace and Edith prepared her crossbow.

The swine with the drum squealed in fury and began beating on it in a chaotic rhythm, the sounds bouncing off the walls. Maryanne stumbled slightly as the sounds created a cacophony inside her head. Grinning viciously the shortest of them suddenly launched a massive gout of phlegm and bile towards her from its throat, the vile concoction splashing against her face and robes.

Maryanne cried out in shock and distress as she felt the disgusting substance clinging to her skin and eating away at it while its stench wafted about her, making her ill as she felt her stomach heave.

"Fucking pig!" Edith shouted as she unleashed her crossbow on the smaller creature. The steel arrow shot across the room, impaling it in the leg and making it scream in pain.

Wiping away the gunk from her face Maryanne bared her teeth at the creature, her eyes blazing as she held her mace aloft.

"The Light shall bring an end to you!" Palle shouted furiously as power blazed from her. A shaft of golden light shot from her mace to slam into the small creature that had dared to molest her.

Flesh burned and flames surged across its small frame as it screamed, its body smoking as Maryanne's face split into a feral grin. The boar closest to them roared as it charged forward to slash at de Paar with its spiked cleaver, the blade slashing at his bandage-covered arm, making it red with blood.

"BACK YE FOUL MONSTROSITIES!" Ernest bellowed furiously.

The soldier's commanding voice, honed from ordering men in the pitched fervor of a hundred battles, echoed across the chamber thunderously. The boar stumbled back in fear as his hook-handed companion fled behind the drummer and its smaller companion. With a failing squeal the small creature expired from its wounds, falling to the floor with a thump.

The metal-faced swine, seemingly unfazed by Ernest's cry, surged forward with its hook outstretched as it slashed at the man in retribution, punching through his armor and stabbing him before ripping it free and retreating before he could swing his mace. Jonas ran forward with a cry as he swung his executioner's sword, slashing at the boar and the drummer, slicing wounds into both of them. Furious at his injury Ernest ran forward as well with his mace raised. The metal-masked swine ducked his swing before stabbing at him again with its hook, cutting open his flesh once again and making the man hiss in pain.

"How dare you strike him!" Maryanne shouted as her mace blazed with holy light once more. "Light take you!"

Holy fire shot from the weapon, spearing the malformed creature and sending to the floor as it wailed in its death throes while Edith's crossbow rang out once more, the arrow shooting through the air to impale the drummer in the throat, making it gag grotesquely as it fell.

Seeing a lull in the battle Jonas knelt in prayer, softly murmuring melodic verses to the Light to heal himself. Soft white light flowed over his body, healing his wounds as Ernest distracted the boar by racing towards it, slamming his mace against the creature's tough hide and ripping open its side. Enraged the creature slammed its fist into Ernest, shoving him to the side as it sprang forward running towards Maryanne. As the woman tried to defend herself the creature slammed his cleaver against her torso, ripping open her robes and carving into her flesh across her chest, making her fall with a cry, the others crying out in fear and worry. Ernest let out a roar of anger as he charged the beast, his mace gripped in both hands. The spiked ball slammed into the back of the boar's head with a loud crunch, braining it and sending it to the floor with a loud thud. Breathing heavily the soldier looked down to see Edith bandaging Maryanne's bleeding torso, the woman herself pulling more bandages out of her pack to help staunch the flow.

"She'll be alright sir." Edith reported as she wound the bandage beneath the woman's breasts. "The cut was deep but I don't think it damaged anything vital."

Ernest nodded. "Good work soldier." He said gruffly before looking at Maryanne. "You've got quite the fire in you girl." He remarked in approval.

The oddly-eyed woman glared at him through the pain as she clenched her teeth. "I suppose I should...take that as a compliment, though...I'm hardly a girl." She groaned.

After a few moments the Vestal was able to stagger to her feet, closing her damaged robes with a huff, her face scrunched in pain.

"It seems the swine have a fancy for the shinier things in life." Jonas remarked as he held up a sack of gold he had found as well as several pieces of green jade and a glittering citrine.

"Who would have figured." Edith replied sarcastically.

The spoils were passed around and another torch lit before they moved on ahead through the door at the end of the room. As they entered another stone hallway another set of whirling blades suddenly shot up from the floor once again, cutting into Jonas as he cried out, stumbling away from them with blood running freely from his legs again.

"Blast it all not again! Damnit!" He shouted in frustration and pain as he used some of his cloth and bandages to cover the wounds.

"The lad's legs'll be nothing but stumps if this luck holds." Ernest murmured to Edith who nodded with a frown.

"I'll thank you to keep your remarks to yourself!" Jonas snapped behind his mask. "Bad enough we must endure the stench of this place without your foul words as well!"

Ernest glared at him but kept his mouth shut as they continued down the hallway with Jonas hobbling stiffly ahead of them. Before long they came to a bookshelf set against the wall.

"Strange the beasts would have books down here." Ernest wondered as he stepped up to it and began perusing the spines. "Can they even read I wonder?"

"Assuming they can what could possibly hold their interest for that long?" Maryanne suggested derisively.

Ernest flipped open one of the books and began to scan its pages. Frowning in revulsion a moment later he put the book back forcefully.

"What did you find out?" Edith asked curiously.

"That they make their own alcohol with utterly vile substances." Ernest replied in disgust. "I'm not one to drink myself but after reading that I fear I won't be able to even look at a wine bottle same way again."

Shivering he glared at the bookshelf before they continued onward, carefully entering the next room. The group breathed a sigh of relief, finding it empty of any occupants, the only decoration in the vaulted room being a crude stone table and a brazier of burning coals atop a plinth with a crude torn banner hanging upon the far wall.

Ernest came over and put his hand on Jonas's armored shoulder. "I can take lead for a while if you want son. Give those legs of yours a bit of rest in back."

The man frowned behind the bronze mask before nodding. "I suppose I should. For a bit at least."

Ernest nodded, taking Jonas's place in front with him moving further back to walk more slowly. As they were moving on Jonas happened to notice a pile of paper scrolls sitting off to the side. Frowning thoughtfully he hobbled over to them, torch in hand.

"Careful lad." Ernest warned. "The beasts' writings aren't wholesome in any sense."

"True enough." The Leper stated as he stood over them before lowering the torch onto the parchment. The scrolls burned quickly, filling the air around Jonas with a sweet smell, giving him a sense of confidence, the beasts not quite as terrible as they had previously seemed in his mind.

Ernest gestured everyone forward and they continued down the wood and stone hallway.

Suddenly a click was heard.

Jonas jumped on instinct but it was Ernest who had sprung the trap, the blades sawing into his armor, shooting sparks and cutting into his legs as well, making the man fall on his back in surprise. Jonas smiled with a grim sense of schadenfreude, happy for once that his mask was in place as he watched Ernest curse a blue streak for several moments, ranting at the trap, the pig-men, and the entire mission as he got to his feet.

"-next time I see one of those misbegotten swine-whore sons of bitches I'll beat them to a bloody pulp and make the other fuckers eat their remains!" He raged, shaking his fist in the air.

"Keep on like that and you'll end up dying of a heart attack instead." Edith suggested with a wry smile on her face.

"Shut your mouth soldier before I have you cleaning the chamber pots in town for a month with a toothbrush!" Ernest retorted hotly before he bent down to inspect the damage. "Light-damned, shite-sucking, beast-fuckers!" He yelled furiously as he tended to the slashes on his legs.

"Such language. You do realize there's a lady present, yes?" Maryanne asked jeeringly.

Ernest glared back at her, though she could see he was more annoyed than anything. "Shut it witch or I'll feed you to 'em." He turned back to his impromptu bandaging. "Bloody wenches and their bloody lip…!"

Finally they were able to continue down the hallway with both Jonas and Ernest hobbling along in front of them. Thankfully the next room they entered was quiet, holding merely a large gated tunnel at the rear of the room from which sludge of various colors burbled constantly. Making their way deeper into the underground passageway they found their way blocked by a collapsed part of the ceiling.

"Time to break out the shovels." Ernest remarked heavily as they dug into their packs and began to clear away the wreckage.

"The stonework *huff* is quite old." Palle remarked as she chucked another shovelful of stones off to the side before brushing her sweaty hair out of her face. "We should *pant* ask Lord Ezekiel when the *puff* moor was settled."

"You know about such things?" Jonas asked with a grunt as he heaved another chunk of earth and stone aside.

"The Sisters were often called in to *pant* help with excavations...of ancient heathen ceremonial sites, ensuring the places were *huff* cleansed of foul magic as the others worked. You pick up *gasp* quite a lot when you listen to the...researchers talk."

After several minutes they were able to clear enough of the debris to continue onward. Taking a sharp turn they pushed the primitive door open and entered the room, hoping it was also empty.

Unfortunately they were quickly disappointed.

Two armored swine with hooks for hands stood in their way as well as another of the short swine and oddly, a pale, skinny man with a balding head swathed in a filthy straitjacket that had once been white along with matching trousers.

As the group pulled their weapons free the shorter swine let out a furious squeal before expelling a mass of phlegm and bile from its throat, hitting Jonas in the mask and blinding him as the muck shot through the slits in the metal to coat his face. The armored man staggered with a cry as Edith let fly with her crossbow, spearing the creature in the stomach, making it cry out. The two armored swine charged forward past the struggling Leper and leaped at Maryanne, both of their hooks cutting into her and making her fall to the ground with a cry as blood turned the front of her robes dark. At the same moment the man in the straitjacket began to cry out insane words in a blasphemous tone. His voice echoed frighteningly across the walls and the light seemed to dim, the dancing shadows closing in about them, striking fear into the hearts of each of them.

"Get thee back you foul monsters before I brain ye!" Ernest bellowed, desperation edging at his voice.

The pair quickly retreated with snarls as Jonas quickly knelt, calling upon the Light's power to heal him as Maryanne swiftly muttered prayers as well, soft light glowing around each of them. Snarling in outrage Maryanne's attackers quickly charged the Vestal once again, disrupting the healing magic and injuring her further. As Ernest raised his mace to attack the creatures the smaller swine shot forward, coughing up another blast of bile that splattered across the soldier, making him stagger back with a curse, coughing as the goo covered him, the pair wisely retreating before the man could get his bearings. The madman cried out, uttering more blasphemies and the shadows suddenly became more monstrous and terrible in size as umbral limbs stretched forth seemingly from the void to clutch at them. Maryanne once again struggled to her feet, calling desperately upon the Light's grace to heal her once again. Power flowed through her body, healing the worst of the damage as Jonas blindly charged forward to strike at the opportunistic smaller swine, hoping to distract them. The small creature and the hook-handed pigman closest to him quickly dodged out of the way of the man's wild swing.

"Let me show you how it's done lad!" Ernest called out as he wiped away the last of the muck before charging forward with his mace upraised, bringing it down on the small creature's head and bashing in its skull. Not to be outdone Edith quickly notched another arrow and let it fly, aiming for the insane man but the schizophrenic's instincts served him well, the man dodging at the last moment with the arrow passing over his head to embed itself in the wall nearby. Dodging around Ernest one of the boars slammed into Jonas, clawing at his armor furiously with loud screeches of metal that sent the man tumbling to the ground, his armor damaged and his torso bleeding as the others cried out in fear.

"Take the bloody hook-thing down!" Ernest ordered.

"Yes sir!" Edith shouted, quickly fired another arrow that slammed into one of them, piercing its stomach.

The creature staggered back for a moment before charging at Ernest, uncaring of its injury. Bracing himself Ernest drawing back his shield as the monster closed before slamming it into the wretch, forcing the arrow's point into its spine, severing it and sending the creature to the ground as it wheezed in expiration. Marryanne staggered over to Jonas before laying her hands on him.

"Light's blessing be upon you!" She panted as healing energy flowed from her hands, closing some of his wounds.

"Just the pick-me-up I needed!" He said gratefully as he got to his feet before he charged at the other hook-handed fiend. The blade swung true, cutting open the creature's belly causing blood and entrails to fly from the wound. Maryanne quickly moved to Ernest, calling upon the Light once again to heal him, making him sigh as the worst of his injuries knit together. The madman quickly focused on Ernest with wild eyes.

"I know what you have done!" The man shouted hysterically. "I know the sins of your past!"

Cupping his hands against his face the man began to utter dark words, foul magic surging towards the man as he ducked behind the shield instinctively. Ernest's shield, still enchanted with holy magic from the healing, flashed brightly before the magic faded, sending the foulness back at the madman who cried out, clutching his head in agony.

"Put that in your pipe and smoke it!" Ernest snarled.

Enraged at how poorly the battle was becoming the remaining hooked swine quickly jumped in among them again to strike a blow against Maryanne's shoulder, the cloth of her robe ripping and a gash opening beneath. Palle cried out in pain and anger as she grabbed the creature by the arm, yanking it off balance and allowing Ernest to bash it with his mace, felling the creature. The madman skittered away towards the back of the room, fearful of facing all of them at once allowing Edith to quickly dig some bandages out of her pack and wrap them around Palle's bleeding wounds while Jonas knelt in prayer once again.

"Light bestow upon me your grace." He murmured reverently, sighing in relief as healing light flowed through him, making all but a few of his smaller wounds vanish.

Standing, Jonas walked ominously towards the wild-eyed man with the rest of the group following him.

"You should be easy enough to deal with." Jonas remarked coldly.

Suddenly the man's face became fierce and hateful, his eyes burning with terrible sanity. "You may kill me but you will not leave this place with your minds intact!" He swore viciously. "You think me mad but the Great One has given me the Sight! I have Seen! I know That Which Should Not Be! That which He saw and could not bear! No man can bear it! NO ONE!" He shouted as they advanced on him.

"LET ME TELL YOU!" The man screamed before launching himself at Jonas, pressing his face against the mask where the man's ear would be and swiftly whispering with angry undertones.

Jonas cried out as he threw the man off of him, stumbling back and panting heavily.

"Light be your judgement!" Palle called out as blazing light shot from her mace to slam into the wild man, shoving him against the wall with a cry as healing energy filled in some of her wounds. A second later Edith's crossbow barked, the arrow flying across the room and slamming into the man's throat, making him gag futilely as it pinned him to the brickwork behind him, his wide eyes glazing into death a moment later as his body went limp.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as Ernest turned to Jonas.

"You alright lad?" The man asked gruffly. "The wacko must've given you quite the scare at the end there, jumping you like that."

Jonas clenched the hilt of his executioner's sword, his body trembling briefly beneath his slashed armor before he nodded. "I-I'm fine."

"What do you suppose he meant by the 'sight' and seeing that which shouldn't be?" Edith asked nervously.

Ernest shook his head. "No clue, assuming he wasn't just talking out his arse. Maybe Lord Ezekiel or that magician has heard of something like that. We'll have to ask when we get back."

Maryanne wandered about the room, trying to calm her nerves when she spotted a sack lying near the wall. Picking it up she blinked at the glint of gold coins within it as well as several sparkling emeralds in the dim torchlight. Bringing to the group the divided it up quickly amongst themselves.

"Should be enough to get you a new robe when we get back." Edith suggested, trying to lighten the mood. "You'll need one after this." She said, glancing at the blood stains and tears in it.

"Thank you for that." Palle sniped, pulling them more tightly closed with a shiver.

Jonas shoved open the rickety door a few feet away, gesturing for the others to continue following him. As they moved down the dimly lit hallway they found a strange framework sitting near the wall, the tangle of metal rods holding a stretched piece of skin with strange markings scrawled upon its surface. Maryanne stared at the macabre scrawlings as she slowly approached, her strange eye glinting in the torchlight.

"Careful." Jonas said warningly. "I would not meddle with it if I were you."

"The Darkness compels me…" She murmured as she approached the construct, a strange excitement in her eyes. "I must examine this."

Jonas moved to stop her only to have the Vestal spin about, brandishing her mace at him threateningly.

"Do not touch me!" She commanded harshly, her eyes dilated and wild. "Scire fas est in potentia scripturam!"

Jonas quickly backed away as she knelt before the occult writing, her hands tracing the stretched skin.

"Origato jaciv svaust urcaxic nomenoi lexri qe tiichia mrith karif toma ini wer zezhuanth kornari…" She intoned in a droning voice as her fingertips traced the inked squiggles.

Suddenly the sigils began to burn with crimson energy before they swirled up her hands. Her eyes blazed with light the color of heart's blood for a moment before it receded, the orange spikes in her eye now a vibrant crimson.

"Light preserve us!" Edith exclaimed anxiously.

"Are you alright?" Jonas asked cautiously, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Calm down. Does it look like I'm about to attack you?" She asked querulously.

"We did just see you get enveloped by magic." Ernest retorted.

Palle glared at him as she straightened. "The Darkness took me over just long enough to examine the writings but I was able to bind them again. Curiously, my vision seems to be sharpened somewhat." She said, glancing about. "Surprising that they would not enhance themselves with the magic; no doubt I was able to bind them again before they could use it against me." She suggested.

"If everything is alright perhaps we should move on." Jonas suggested heavily. "I don't know how much more of these abhorrent tunnels I can take."

"You and me both." The Vestal agreed darkly as they continued trudging on down the hallway. "I swear the stench is getting worse if that's even possible." She coughed, forcing down her gorge.

"You're gonna make me sick, doing that." Edith grumbled as she strung her crossbow with a bola shot, her previously neat hair frazzled and loose from the battles.

"Just a bit further and we will return." Jonas said as he pushed open the door.

Shrieks of surprise echoed throughout the chamber as the group came face to face with four more of the swine standing around a broken plinth of dark stone covered in carvings. The first to turn was one of the boar-like creatures with a cleaver, the second another hook-handed fiend covered in an insanity mask, the third another of the drummers they had seen before, and another of the small swine.

Wasting no time Edith immediately fired her bola arrow, the wild ropes knocking the boar back.

"Come to your death you great tubs of lard! I'll make mincemeat out of all of you!" Ernest bellowed, making Hook-Hand and the Drummer cower.

"Something tells me you'll need this!" Palle murmured urgently to Ernest before uttering a prayer to the Light, sending its healing power into him and closing all but a few of his minor wounds.

Taking advantage of their shock and surprise Jonas quickly muttered a healing prayer of his own, swathing his body in holy light, his wounds vanishing.

Squealing in anger at Edith's shot the short swine purged his stomach of its contents. The large glob of putrid slime hit Edith full in the face making her scream in panic as she desperately tried to clear away the foulness. The drummer swine quickly began to beat a chaotic and frantic beat with its drum, the echoing and disorienting sounds making Maryanne stagger, clutching her ears. Recovering their courage the boar with the cleaver and the hooked swine charged at Ernest, undoing the work of the Vestal's healing as they sliced and clawed at the man, squealing and grunting angrily as they tore into his armor, making him bleed from several deep wounds.

"Back heathen devils!" Maryanne shouted furiously as she called upon the Light. A surge of power shot from her hand to cover Ernest in glowing energy, making the monsters scamper away as she once again healed him, his new lacerations and gashes immediately disappearing.

Enraged at her interference the boar with the cleaver charged at her, slicing her stomach and chest. Ernest roared in anger at seeing the woman bleed, whipping his mace and slamming it against the back of the boar's head. The creature howled as the spiked metal bounced off its thick skull, sending it sprawling to the ground with its head bleeding before it scrambled away on all fours with frantic squeals.

Gritting her teeth in fury at being unable to fire on the boar at such a close range Edith did the next best thing, lining up a shot at the swine in the insanity mask and letting an arrow loose. The bolt flew true, spearing the creature through the heart, killing it instantly as it fell with a scream.

The drummer launched into another barrage of chaotic drum beats, filling the room with a cacophony of maddening sounds intermixed with the insane squeals of his comrades.

"Fucking hell!" Maryanne shouted desperately, her head pounding and her eyes watering from the stress as she clutched her head. "Someone kill that thing!"

Jonas groaned, the sounds reverberating painfully inside his helmet. "I-I'll do my best milady!"

Jonas ran drunkenly forward, the sounds upending his sense of balance as he swung his sword desperately, missing the swine as it dodged. The smaller swine grinned in savage glee before it expelled another glob of putrid bile from its throat, the foul mass hitting Maryanne in the face.

Maryanne screamed in maddened fury as something inside her mind snapped, the sounds of the drummer combined with the stench of the tunnels and the sheer repulsiveness of the muck covering her eyes and mouth overwhelming her senses and driving all reason from her. Tearing apart her shredded robes she staggered towards the swine, dressed in nothing but her shirt and trousers as tears of frustration and fury carved lines down her soiled face.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!" She howled. "DO IT! END IT! LIGHT KNOWS I DESERVE IT"

"Maryanne!" Ernest called out to her but the woman was beyond all sense now.

Cackling with vicious laughter the drummer doubled his efforts, making the room thunder with a multitude of wild and tumultuous sounds.

Overwhelmed by the cacophony inside his helmet mixed with Maryanne's screams Jonas let out a tormented bellow of his own as he felt his reason flee from him, replaced with white-hot rage. "SHUT THE HELL UP YOU LIGHT-DAMNED BITCH!" He screamed abusively. "FUCKING KILL THOSE THINGS OR FALL ON MY SWORD!"

Edith began to hyperventilate from the overstimulation of her senses and seeing the group falling apart around her, the possibility of her death suddenly becoming very imminent in her mind as hopelessness began to overtake her. "YOU WANT A PIECE OF ME?!" She shouted at the swine hysterically, slamming her mailed fist against her armor. "COME GET SOME!"

Screaming incoherently in rage and frustration Jonas charged the cleaver-wielding boar. "TAKE THIS YOU FUCKING PIECE OF DOG MEAT!" He screamed before bringing his executioner's blade down on the creature's shoulder. Bone splintered and muscle tore as the creature's thick arm was torn from its body, its blood spraying in all directions as it screamed in pain.

"LIGHT FILL ME WITH YOUR GRACE!" Maryanne screamed, spreading her arms wide in supplication. Power answered, funnelling healing throughout her body and healing it completely. "COME AND KILL ME!" She cried with a mad cackle at the shaken creatures. "SEE HOW MANY OF YOUR BLOWS I CAN TAKE!"

As the boar fell, expiring from exsanguination, the smaller swine vomited another gout of bile, splashing against Maryanne's torn cotton shirt, staining her stomach and covering the garment with its foulness, making the woman scream in outrage.

"BAD ENOUGH YOU RUIN MY ROBES! NOW YOU RUIN MY CLOTHES! IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?!" She shouted before tearing open her ruined shirt. "IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED TO SEE?!" She shouted at them.

Ernest looking away as the woman's full and firm breasts were now on full display for all to see.

"COME ON!" She howled. "RAPE ME AND KILL ME LIKE YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO! IT'S ALL I'M WORTHY OFF!" She screamed in misery, tears streaming down her face and she held out her arms to them, her shirt in tatters around her.

The maddening drumming continued all around them, making the room shake with sound as it nearly drowned them all out.

"FOR LIGHT'S SAKE SHUT THE HELL UP YOU VILE HARLOT!" Jonas shouted at her. "IS THIS WHAT YOU'VE BEEN WANTING TO DO SINCE YOU GOT HERE?! GO JOIN THE BROTHEL WHORES IF WE MAKE IT OUT OF THIS ALIVE!" He raged.

"ENOUGH OF THIS!" Ernest shouted in fury. He could feel his head aching from the discordian sounds and the screams of his maddened comrades but decades of experience had inured him against the horrific sounds of battle and its effects.

"EDITH!" He shouted in his best Sergeant's voice. "GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS SOLDIER! FOCUS FIRE ON THE SMALL ONE!"

The man's familiar and commanding tone jerked her out of her paralysis as she instinctively raised her crossbow, immediately drawing a bead on the short swine. Her arrow flew, impaling the creature in the stomach while Ernest charged forward with a battle cry, smashing his mace into the drummer's face and making it crumple before slamming the iron ball down on the drum, shattering it and cutting off the noise instantly. Screaming in pain the remaining swine hurled another acidic wad at Edith, splashing against her armor and face. With the drum silent and seeing two two soldiers still in the fight a spark of sanity returned to Maryanne's mind.

"Light judge you!" She shouted as she fired another bolt of holy light at the creature, making it fall to its knees as Ernest stood over it.

"THIS! IS! OVER!" He commanded furiously as he drove his mace into the creature's skull, bursting its head asunder in an explosion of bones and brains, the body collapsing to the floor.

Jonas, Maryanne, and Edith blearily looked about at each other.

"Is it over?" Maryanne asked with a whimper, her half-naked body nearly limp with exhaustion. .

"Aye, it is." Ernest replied tiredly, frowning at Edith in concern before he took some bandages from his pack and carefully wrapped them around the Vestal's chest in a crude bra, giving her a modicum of modesty.

"Nice job, wasting the bandages just so the bint can cover her tits!" Jonas snarled.

Ernest whirled about to face him. "Shut your mouth boy or I'll cut the tongue from your head with your own sword!" He shouted, making the masked man take a step back instinctively.

Shaking in head in frustration Ernest strode towards the plinth in the center of the room. "Since I'm the only one who seems to have any sense left I'll be leading us out of this place once I get a look at this thing. They were all crowded around it so it must be important."

Dusting off the rock's face he carefully examined the marks scratched into it from the swines' claws. Meanwhile Jonas looked about, picking through the small sacks he found lying about the room in various places.

"Looks like they kept some goodies here." He remarked surly to the others, holding up a small pouch of rubies and onyx stones as well as several crests.

"This looks to be a rough map of the next level down." Ernest informed the others as he squinted towards the large gated archway at the rear of the room with crude steps leading further down into the darkness. "If I had some charcoal and wax paper I could make an impression of it. As it is I'll just have to remember what I can." He said, trying to commit it to memory.

"Can we please go back now?" Edith asked wearily.

Ernest looked about and nodded. "I would say it's time for that, aye. Come on, let's get out of these blasted tunnels and back to where sane folk live."


End file.
